the royal bodyguard
by electrikitty
Summary: the royal tutor may have kept his position despite of his chequered past, but trouble is stirring and glanzreich's princes have gone from celebrities to targets overnight. forced into embracing a long-forgotten side of himself, heine becomes the princes' bodyguard — yet the game is only just beginning, and someone is playing the royal family like a deck of cards… / complete
1. Steel Heart I

**~ Heine ~**

The king of the realm of Glanzreich rests his elbows on his desk, and smiles.

'I have a request, Royal Tutor.'

I bow, eyes on the carpet.

'I would be honoured if I could fulfil your request, Your Majesty.'

This feels like a constructed ruse enacted on a stage.

For all the kingdom knows, our acquaintance is due to the matter of his sons' education.

I glance up. The king's high steward bows and makes his exit, leaving His Majesty and I alone, framed by a violet-stained view of Glanzreich.

What the kingdom doesn't know — is that the king and I have history.

He exhales. Smoothly swings his feet up onto the desk, and in the same movement unfastens the braided gold collar of his jacket with one hand.

'This behaviour reeks of habit, Viktor.'

'Don't tell me that your academic uniform is any more comfortable.'

I flick the tassel hanging off my mortarboard to the side. I dislike having things at the edge of my vision. It feels like having someone in your blindspot.

Viktor takes his leather boots off the desk and stands. He towers over me, but then again, most people do. Most people also assume I'm a child, and I'm anything but. 'Please, sit,' he says.

I sit on the edge of his desk. My shoe clicks against the coat of arms embossed on the desk's front. The hand-carved national motto catches at my heel — _Unteilbar und Untrennbarer._ Indivisible and inseparable. Viktor takes a decanter and two crystal glasses from a sideboard. He gives me a wry smile, and his eyes betray his humour. 'I'd offer you a drink… but I can't give wine to a child.'

I cut him a sideways glance and flick the glass from his grip and into my fingers. 'If you were wanting a captive audience for your jokes, perhaps you should make better use of the audience chamber.'

He laughs. 'I can't break tradition now.' He pours for the two of us.

' _Prost_!'

Soft lights flicker outside: the glow of candles in windows, polished street lamps, fires burning brightly in the countryside, far away. I watch Viktor. He looks out the window, over the kingdom. His kingdom. The lights reflect in his eyes and spill gold dust into blue irises. To be able to see the rewards of one's work is always a reward in itself. He's worked hard for it. For this.

I'm merely glad that I'm able to help him build this kingdom's future.

Victor drains his glass and sets it down on the desk.

I swirl the yellow amber in my glass. 'So? Why did you request an audience with me?'

'I can't merely catch up with an old friend?'

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, emptying my glass as well. Viktor straightens his jacket and fingers his shoulder-length blond hair, untangling it from the medallion around his neck.

'I want you to take on the role of bodyguard for the princes.'

I know perfectly well what he's asking… but I feel the need for further clarification. 'Would you care to elaborate, Viktor?'

'I'm aware that you've stepped in on my sons' behalf on multiple occasions. You defended Kai during the von Fuchs incident. You accompanied Bruno when he went to meet with Doctor Dmitri of Orosz. You frequently accompany Licht during his shifts at Cafe Mitter Meyer. And Leonhard… All right, not Leonhard. But you see what I'm getting at.'

It's all true. I set my glass down and the base of it cuts a crystal splash over the mahogany. But I'm a teacher — not a bodyguard, nor a soldier. I merely grew up in a… difficult environment and had to learn how to live according to the fact. Having a chequered past isn't grounds enough for what he's asking.

'Forgive me, Viktor — but I'm inclined to request that you release me from this. The princes have perfectly competent guards, and I'm here as their teacher, nothing more.'

Viktor rests his head on locked knuckles, and his hair falls over his hands.

'I'm aware of all that, Heine. And I'm aware that this situation will be opening up old wounds for you.'

My breath hitches.

He looks up. 'I didn't want to ask you. But — '

'How could you not?' I say. 'I would be in a perfect position to protect them from behind the scenes. You want what's best for your sons, and the opportunity is too good to pass by, as a father and as a king.'

'Thanks for understanding. But you can say no, Heine. Really.'

 _I could. But it's you. My one weakness._

I evade the point and change tack. 'Is there anything that I should know?'

'In other words — why am I asking you to do this now, when I've had good opportunity and reason to ask you before?' Viktor's smile doesn't reach his eyes. 'I'm afraid that I have no good reason, yet.'

I fix my gaze on the glittery landscape out the window. 'In other words — something's wrong, but you don't know enough to start flinging accusations around the kingdom with free abandon.'

'As sharp as ever. I'll follow this up and attempt to resolve it myself,' Viktor says, flicking through papers on his desk, 'but I'm going to be leaving the country at the end of the week. It's for this diplomatic meeting that's been on my calendar all year, but now it's just around the corner, with the worst possible timing. Hence my request, so to speak. I need your help to get this under control and I'm not willing to leave it up to chance.' He fingers the worn edge of a telegram. 'Do you think I'm paranoid?'

'Most parents are. Besides, someone has to do it.' I cross one leg over the other and close the curtains. '…I won't be able to protect all of them at once.'

'I know. That's what Maximilian and Ludwig are there for. As you said yourself, the princes have competent guards. But Heine… frankly, your skill alone makes you a terrifying opponent.'

I scoff, and glance at the portrait on the wall. The one of the king cutting his way through Europe with a double-edged rapier. And he's saying I'm terrifying?

He rests a hand on the dress sword at his side, and says, 'You're the one who taught me everything I know, after all.'

We lock eyes. 'Very well. I won't fail you, Your Highness.'

'Very well, Royal Tutor. Or should, I say, Royal Tutor-Bodyguard?'

I slip off the edge of the desk. 'That's just absurd.'

He laughs. 'Hyphenated ranks are all the rage now.'

'Spare me.'

Viktor fingers his empty glass, spinning it in his fingers. 'I'm curious, Heine. You know, there's a reason you were the first to come to mind when I thought of this. No matter the circumstance, you're always focused, and always prepared.' A trace of the steel that shapes him shades his expression. 'Have you kept your edge, my friend?'

'I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning. If you're asking if I'm carrying weapons: no one is allowed before the king while armed. How would one even get past the guards?'

He waits.

 _Always prepared?_ Perhaps. More like skilled at prediction. Skilled at guessing what goes on in this palace.

And I remove my coat, the silk lining sliding off my shoulders.

I have an ivory-handled six-chambered revolver strapped to my waist, and the holster cuts across my waistcoat. A stiletto knife glints behind my arm in a sheath. And my teacher's pointer hangs from my belt, because I am a teacher first and foremost after all.

I confess it's been a while since I've carried so many weapons, however.

The faintest trace of a smile lights Viktor's eyes. 'How would one indeed?'

I bow. 'If you'll excuse me, I have lessons to prepare.'

I leave, and stride, coat billowing behind me, down a hall of paintings and gold and rulers gone by, past the very guards that dismissed me as harmless for nothing more than my child-like looks.

I adjust my glasses. Glance over my shoulder.

And disappear, the darkness painting my weapons with shadow.

 _End of Prologue: Steel Heart_

 _To be continued in Act 1: Blue Whip..._

* * *

 **WELCOME TO  
THE WORLD OF  
…THE ROYAL BODYGUARD…**

 **The Story Begins With:**

'The Royal Bodyguard' (Completed)

 **Yet to Come:**

'Alone Together' (June)  
'Mein Schatz' (September)  
'Red Banner' (December)  
'The Royal Gardes du Corps Féminin' (TRB's Sequel)(2020)

 **On the Timeline:**

\- Set after the anime, and references the anime-original backstory.  
\- Set during Volume 7 of the manga.  
\- Set between 'Chapter 38: We Are Rivals!' and 'Chapter 39: Twinkling Love'.

 **Backstory:**

Manga and anime plot information has been combined and streamlined, with the idea that the characters are continuing through the manga storyline after having learned the backstory information from the anime.

 **Headcanons:**

\- (Dead!Queen) In an attempt to rationalise why the queen is barely mentioned, I experimented a little. But Volume 10 (in which Adele vaguely hints that the queen is alive), was not in print at the time of writing. If the manga confirms that the queen is indeed alive, then I'll rework this story to be canon-compliant when I edit the TRB series at a later date.

 **Personal Canons:**

\- (Bodyguard!Characters) Given that bodyguards can easily slot into the TRT Universe, if a character can be one and still be canon-compliant, then it's definitely happening.

 **Notes:**

\- Complete: Yes  
\- Edited: Yes (April 2019)  
\- Canon-Compliant: Yes  
\- OC's: Yes  
\- Warnings: Violence (in all shapes and forms), Peril (if someone isn't dying then they're probably about to be), and Angst (or so I'm told).  
\- Anime Spoilers: Yes  
\- Manga Spoilers: No. But if I ever need to include major spoilers for the manga in the TRB series, I'll tag those chapters with an Author's Note.

 **TRB Project Progress:**

In April 2019 I did a quick edit of this story and 'The Next Steps.' Once I've finished writing the TRB series, then I'll go back through and revise it in its entirety for consistency and canon compliancy. Edited stories will be tagged '(Edited)' and revised stories will one day be tagged with a '(Revised)'.

 **This Story Is Dedicated To:**

shalom.03  
Thanks for reading all those first-drafts, apprentice.

 **Author's Note:**

Guys... What can I say? This was a side project. A pile of printed pages and fanart in my desk drawer. It was a random question I asked myself over a year ago: 'What if Heine became the princes' bodyguard on the side?' Then someone gave me the push to post this thing online, and somewhere along the way... it became one of my most favourite projects I've ever worked on.

Now I'm sitting here writing author's notes and adding explanatory material, because somehow after hundreds of thousands of words and what will eventually be six stories later, it became a series. How'd that happen, again? I'll blame Higasa Akai's gorgeous books, the ones I'm writing these stories about, because her series made me who I am as a writer and I wouldn't have it either way. And to everyone here, thanks for coming along for the ride. -Electrikitty, April 2019

 **And without further ado...**

 **…IT'S TIME FOR A LESSON…**


	2. Blue Whip I

**~ Leonhard ~**

I never thought that I'd think of this place as a home away from home. I close my book and set it to the side. All around, bookshelves rise overhead, the embossed spines gleaming red and green and gold. I rest my chin on my hand, fingers cupping my jaw. No, if someone told me a while ago that I'd be spending the better part of my time at the National Library, I'd have told them that they had the wrong prince.

I gather up the scattered books on my table into a stack and head for the stairs to the upper floor. I could have someone put them away for me, but my stiff legs are begging for a flight of stairs. Maximilian stands watch below. Hard to miss, with his oversized pike and the ornamental uniform of the Royal Guard. He stifles a yawn, and looks up as I pass overhead on a walkway. He lifts an eyebrow: asking if he should follow. I merely wave, shaking my head, and step onto the landing.

The gantry floor above the main library stores archived books, unavailable for loan. Since the books I have in my arms are bound records from the kingdom's history, they're shelved up here in the shadowy recesses. I head down a row of shelves. The light from the skylight quickly fades, replaced by the whiff of old paper.

I place my pile on a ladder and wheel it back the way I came, counting shelf numbers. 'Three… Four…' I put one foot up and someone walks into the row. An older gentleman, with a polished pipe dangling from his fingers. 'Uh…' I've blocked the row with my ladder. Do I try and —

'Wait, smoking isn't allowed in the library, is it?' I blurt out. Then I flush scarlet. I'd throw myself out a window, if there was one near to hand to throw myself out of. _Ugh, Leonhard, you_ idiot…

The man laughs and slips the pipe into his jacket. Ash spatters his polished shoes. 'Don't worry, it's not lit. If it was, I'd have a death wish. Those librarians are aggressive little vixens when it comes to their books.' He waves a hand and leans against the shelves. 'Take your time.'

'Oh. Thank you.' I mount the ladder and balance, holding the books with one hand and sliding them back into place with the other. The shelves are crammed, and the last one won't fit. I grimace, trying to ease it in — and the ladder shakes. I'm jarred and nearly thrown off, as the whole rig sways like a fairground ride. I gasp and snatch at the shelf edge. The ladder finally steadies, and I risk looking down. To see the man holding it still, pipe smouldering between two fingers. 'You all right?' he asks. 'Better get down before the whole thing gives way.'

'Yeah.' He takes the pipe in his teeth and offers a hand for balance. I take it, getting down and jumping the last few steps in my haste to get off. I turn to him. I smile. 'Thank you.'

His hands rest on my arms. 'You're welcome, Prince,' He tips my head up with a finger 'Besides, I've waited a long time for this. Merely pushing you off a ladder just wouldn't suffice, I'm afraid.'

My smile falters. _Huh?_ 'What?'

I step back a little. He won't let go. One hand is a vice biting into my upper arm, and the other knots through my fingers. He scoffs, and the pipe swivels, glinting. 'I see you're still a stupid child, White Lily Prince. Still, I'm not surprised. You never were willing to learn, were you?'

My chest hurts. I can't get my breath. 'L-Let go. I have guards — '

A knife. At my neck. My collar gives way to it, and the blade presses against the hollow in my collarbone. My pulse throbs under the steel. 'They're not going to hear you, little prince.'

 _Little prince. Stupid little prince. Learn already! Solve the blasted problem — do it, you little brat!_

'Ah. Now you remember. You took your time.'

My breath hitches and I jerk, heels scuffing the carpet. _Someone! Someone help!_ Too fast — a prick, and a thread of blood trickles down my chest.

He flips the knife and pulls me back to him. He rubs the blood from the scratch. 'Careful, Prince.' The knife strokes my jaw. 'Don't worry — you'll suffer soon enough. But I'd rather take my time. Revenge tastes sweeter that way. Move,' he orders, and forces me into the dark.

Behind us, a flash of red. Maximilian runs past, calling my name. I inhale. _I'll scream. I'll risk it_ — and the blade brushes my neck, taking a lock of blood-stained hair with it. I gasp. He slips the lock into an envelope, and tosses it aside.

The lonely square of paper watches me from the floor.

He moves me, forces me to an abandoned cluster of stacked books that hide a small window. Opens it. Presses a hand to my shoulder until I yield. Until I kneel and hit the floor. A ladder clings to the edge of the window frame. Cold air blows through the cracks, yet I can't breathe.

He drops to one knee behind me, and whispers in my ear. 'Be a good boy, Prince, and I'll let you live long enough to say your prayers.'

 _To be continued…_


	3. Blue Whip II

**~ Heine ~**

' _Homework?!_ '

Despite now being in possession of a hyphenated rank, it doesn't feel as though anything's changed overnight. Prince Licht is still complaining about his homework, Prince Bruno is honoured and thrilled to have been bestowed a lesson from his one and only master — I tune that out after two seconds — and I have to tap Prince Kai's shoulder thrice before he gets his head out of the clouds and notices me. Then again, I still haven't told them about my new post or what it entails. Normalcy has yet to be disrupted.

The only one missing is Prince Leonhard. His chair sits vacant. He's off at the National Library today. I confess that I would have preferred to accompany him instead of Maximilian, but I'm never going to be able to protect all of them at once. That's something that I need to get into my head now.

The only thing that's changed is that I asked Maximilian and Ludwig to step up their efforts. I don't know if there was a particular incident that sparked Viktor's request, but a little caution never hurt anyone. On that same note, I often had weapons on my person before, but now I've made it a daily habit.

I give Licht a warning glance. He quickly shuts up and turns his attention to managing his waist-length blond hair. Too much attitude, and I'll conveniently find that I'll be too busy to accompany him during his shift at Cafe Mitter Meyer this week. We seem to have come to an understanding. A prince working at a cafe in secret is already pushing it at best and asking for trouble at worst.

I rap the schedule on the blackboard with my teacher's pointer and get their attention. 'If you would please hand these assignments in before tomorrow. Your exams are coming up at the end of the week and I'm attempting to have all your work graded.'

'No can do,' Licht says, stretching his arms behind his head. 'I'm out on the town tonight, and I'll be lucky if the ladies let me off before dawn.'

Bruno grits his teeth and hides his face in his hands, knocking his glasses askew. 'Keep your vulgar extracurricular activities to yourself, Licht…'

I narrow my eyes at the offending party. 'Well, Prince. Perhaps if you would — '

A knock on the door. We all turn to see Jakob Frein — Viktor's high steward — enter the room. I feel something shift. With his unnaturally silver hair, youthful appearance, and porcelain-white skin, Jakob has always had a wraith-like appearance — but he looks like he's just seen an ethereal sprit himself. My fingers slip beneath my coat and tighten on the holster strap across my chest. 'Herr Frien?'

'His Majesty urgently requests an audience with all of you. Attendance is mandatory.'

 _Prince Leonhard._ I'm already running for the door. One of the princes says, 'Wait, Teach — '

' _Now,_ boys.' My knife-edge tone stuns the three of them into following and we run. We take a staircase, and sprint up the steps and over the carpet runners of the halls.

'Do you know what's going on, Master?' Bruno pants.

'I have an idea.' We round the corner. The guards outside Viktor's door have their weapons drawn, and I instinctively raise my arm to guard against attack, as we run past and into Viktor's chambers.

Bruno and Licht both double over, gasping for breath. Kai is somewhat more poised. His studies at military academy have likely given him better stamina than his brothers. Viktor stands in front of his desk, holding a letter in this hand. I ignore the princes and cross the room.

'Well?' I take it, and glance at him. A chill shoots down my spine. Viktor's eyes are on fire. He looks like he could murder someone.

He closes his eyes, and says, 'Maximilian brought this to me. Read it.'

I read even as I unfold the paper. The ink is splattered, dribbling down the page in an ill grey hue. Colour fades from the air. A faint, ticking unease seeps from the very walls. "Your Majesty. Let's face it, kidnapping notes are a cliche, but they do the job. Don't worry, this little mess isn't going to break the national budget… At least not in the way you think. I'm not interested in money. I-I'm — "'

I stumble. I have to stop. In my twenty years as an educator, I haven't had a slip of the tongue while reading aloud once.

'"I'm…"' The paper crackles under my fingers. I take a breath. '"I'm going to kill him."'

Licht, Bruno, and Kai freeze on the spot.

Viktor's jaw clenches. His shoulders rise and his fingers dig into his crossed arms as though they'll rip through the fabric and scratch up his skin. He must be going berserk, behind that facade.

'"Try and get your son back if you can. You know, at least you'll be able to tell yourself you tried, at his funeral — "'

I choke. The paper rips.

In the place of a signature is a lock of blond hair. Streaked with blood.

My vision turns red, an ugly red of bloodstained sepia. If this man was in front of me right now I'd lose control and kill him. I haul the urge back by its chain. I haven't felt like this in a long time. I haven't felt like this since —

I slam the letter down on the desk. 'I'm going after him.'

Viktor nods. 'Go. I'll mobilise cavalry units to come and back you up.' We exchange a look. 'Do whatever you have to,' he says, 'and I'll cover you.'

'Good.' I pull off my coat and hat and drop them on the desk. They're only going to get in the way. 'Because I may need it. You know I'm no saint, Viktor.'

I turn. Licht, Bruno, and Kai look shell-shocked. I can feel the weight, the weight of the knife on my arm and the gun strapped to my side. True, the princes know that Viktor and I have history. But they still know very little about _me_.

I would prefer to do this all by myself, but… 'Prince Bruno, come with me,' I order, and sprint out of the room. I'd be a fool not to utilise the resources to hand.

I can't remember the last time that I ran anywhere. _Prince Leonhard…_ I grit my teeth. Focus. Get to the library. Identify the target. Pursue. Confront. Get Leonhard to safety. _Before it's too late…_

Bruno chases after me and two maids skitter out of our way. 'Master, I…'

'You can't believe what I'm doing?' The princes would have to have been dumb, deaf, and blind to miss the fact that I'm armed. 'Your father requested that I become a bodyguard for the four of you.'

'What?! But Master, you're our _teacher_ — '

We hit the stairs, and I leap onto the balustrade and spiral the distance while Bruno takes the steps by twos. 'Yes, I'm your teacher. And as such, I'm your protector, in every sense of the word. Your father requested this as a favour — ' The rush and distance snatch at my words. ' — and you know I have a past.' Bruno keeps his eyes on the steps, his brow creased behind his glasses.

'I may have to kill him.'

Bruno trips and windmills for balance, nearly taking a spill. 'Prince Leonhard's unnamed assailant,' I clarify. I hit the ground running, and we both race for the palace doors.

'Master…'

'Trust me — I don't believe in killing, and I dislike violence. And I also believe in the teachings of Scripture.' The guards pull open the doors at our rapid approach, and sunlight roars towards us in blinding shafts. 'But to turn the other cheek when it concerns royalty, when the lives at stake are responsible for millions of other innocent lives? That's what requires countermeasures.'

I narrow my eyes against the light. 'It may be possible to get through this without undue violence, but if Prince Leonhard's life is in jeopardy… I may not have a choice. And there will be consequences for the actions I may need to take, but I wouldn't expect anything less. That's the price you have to pay. As ugly as it is, that's the reality of war.' Our boots hit stone in a succession of cracks, like gunshots. Ludwig is standing at the ready with two horses. _You know how to make things happen, Viktor._

'I need you to come with me to the National Library.' I spring onto one of the mounts and haul Bruno up behind me. 'We know nothing about Leonhard's abductor. If there's any chance some record could have been made of this man coming to the library, I need you to help me find it.' I lean back, shout, 'Follow us!' to Ludwig, and with a sharp kick to our horse, Bruno and I take off.

'Anything, Master.' Bruno says, holding tightly to my shoulders. It seems I haven't completely shattered his faith in me yet.

'Then talk me through it while I get us there.'

'Leonhard told me he was going to be researching archived historical documents.' We storm out of the palace gates, and buildings and stone-paved roads flash by in a blur of wind. 'The National Library keeps a record of everyone who enters the archives because the materials are so valuable. I'm on good terms with the librarians there, so they should let me see the record book but we'll need to stress the importance of the request.'

We thunder through the Ringstrasse, cutting through carriages and crowds, leaving carnage in our wake. 'It's a national emergency. I'll tell them the king himself needs the records if I have to.'

'There! Stop!' Bruno yells.

I rein in the horse and it rears, flailing hooves and scattering pedestrians. I vault off, lash the reins to a railing, and fly up the steps, Bruno hot on my heels. His breathing is ragged. As he's a scholar, I imagine he doesn't have much stamina.

I stride through the doors. The click of my boots on the marble rings out as I head left, for the archives wing. Everyone in the foyer is staring, but I could care less.

A young female librarian chews a fountain pen at a desk just inside the archives' doors. She looks up. 'O-Oh, welcome. Guests are required to — '

I drop my hands on the desk and lean forward. I'm only at her eye level, but she edges back slightly.

'This is a matter of state. We need to see the entry record book for the archives.'

She shakes her head slowly, then quicker. 'I'm afraid that — ' Her eyes land on my gun.

'Fräulein Mia!' Bruno runs up to the desk. The librarian colours slightly. 'He's with me. Please, it's urgent. My bro — '

I cut him off. 'Please.'

She picks up a leather-bound book and riffles through it. Passes it to me with a glance at Bruno.

I scan the page and Leonhard's messy handwriting jumps out right away. I push the book into Bruno's hands. 'Look through today's pages and see if you recognise any names.'

Bruno adjusts his glasses, already reading. I turn to Fräulein Mia. 'Did you see Prince Leonhard when he came in today?'

She tips her head to the side. 'Yes, I remember checking him in this morning. I'm not always at the desk, however.'

I'm feeling restless, but my focus is sharp. 'Do the patrons have to check out?'

'Yes.' Her eyes widen. 'He —' Her chair scrapes the marble. She looks around. 'He's not here…' She starts to breathe quickly. Shallow puffs. 'I don't think he's been checked out, either.' She grabs another librarian by the shoulder. 'Rosetta — '

I cut in. 'Forgive the interruption. Fräulein, was there a disturbance earlier?'

Fräulein Rosetta shrugs off Mia's hand, then pauses. 'Wait, yes. A young man with reddish hair was making a racket upstairs, but he went sprinting out of here so fast that I couldn't catch him to check him out, let alone tell him off.'

It must have been Maximilian. I imagine when Prince Leonhard disappeared before his eyes, he started searching, eventually found the letter, and at least had the commonsense to return to the palace.

This is taking too long. I'm painfully aware that our time is ticking away and the seconds are snapping by as fast as my heartbeat. 'I'm going to check upstairs. Bruno, keep reading.'

I slip through the gilded chairs and tables and climb the flight of stairs. I unsheathe my knife and walk through the shadowy rows of bookshelves. My heart's already beating too fast. Add darkness and confined spaces to that, and it's giving me an uncomfortable feeling bordering on claustrophobia.

Something different, something off… Something glints. I drop to one knee. A small window behind toppled stacks of books. Dust motes dance, recently disturbed. I pry open the window. It's been recently oiled, clashing with how ill-kept this area is. I open it further and prop it open, before putting my head and shoulders through.

The view opens up to the roof of a first-floor wing jutting off the library. A searing blue sky. A few roof tiles are broken. A ladder leans against the wall below.

The window slams down into the small of my back, followed by stacks of books collapsing over my legs, and I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough the draw blood. I curse under my breath, before kicking my way free and pulling myself back inside. _There's no doubting it now._ There are even tiny, stained raindrops of blood scattered over the carpet. My fingers clench around the knife's hilt. No doubt.

I dust myself off, sheathe my knife, and run downstairs. In the few moments that I've been gone, Fräulein Mia's desk has disappeared under an avalanche of papers. She and Bruno look up and wave.

I walk up, saying, 'Tell me you found something,'

Bruno grins. 'We did, Master.' His smile vanishes. He unearths the record book and rests his finger on the page. 'Herr Ralphien Graaz. He's a former royal tutor.' Regret flickers in his eyes. 'I admit he did not fare well with any of us — you know how we tended to drive off our tutors in the past — but he… It's complicated. I'll keep it short.

'He favoured corporal punishment, and this was around the time when Leonhard started running away from his lessons on horseback. One day he chased Leonhard into the stables and beat him with a… riding whip.' Mia gasps, and Rosetta flinches. Bruno exhales. 'I imagine he acted in the heat of the moment. Leonhard's injuries were only minor, thank goodness, but it was a terrible ordeal. I don't know how Herr Graaz attempted to justify himself. He was sent away in disgrace and publicly humiliated.'

Mia hands me a sheaf of papers. 'He sold his residence in Wienner and changed his name, then bought a property in Raischt. All this only happened recently, in the last week or so.'

This is _not_ good. I have the presence of mind to ask, 'How did you find this information?'

Mia smirks. 'I broke into the private document archives and stole it.' She responds to my raised eyebrow with, 'It happens more often than you might think.'

'You're… quite terrifying,' Bruno says. 'In the best possible way.'

I flick through the papers. Good, an address. 'It's logical that Graaz would have taken Leonhard to his property or another location in that area. I know enough to go after him. Thank you for your assistance.'

Mia bites her lip. 'No problem. Good luck.' _We're going to need more than luck. More like divine intervention._ I pull Bruno along with me and we run for the library doors, his pulse flickering and throbbing under my fingers, leaving Mia and Rosetta to hide the evidence of their rampage in the document vaults.

We descend the steps. 'So we're going to go after him?' Bruno asks. Heavy storm clouds are blooming in the sky. The air presses down overhead.

' _We're_ not going anywhere.' As promised, cavalry units are waiting below, ready to move out. 'You're going to tell the captains of these units where to go while I go on ahead.'

'Understood.' We both look over Wienner, to the green hills that are the start of Raischt. 'I think I would slow you down, anyway,' Bruno admits.

I cut him a look. 'That's not it. This Herr Ralphien is unhinged. I can understand holding a prince to ransom for monetary gain — that's a logical move. But exploiting a child, let alone threatening to kill him? And boldly advertising the fact?'

I vault onto my horse and stand aloft on the saddle, my height not permitting regular riding posture. I slide the papers beneath my waistcoat. 'I had my concerns, but…' I fix Bruno with a sharp glare, and he flinches. 'He's unhinged. None of you, especially your father, will get involved and you will implicitly tell them this. Understood?' Bruno nods, hard. I give him a little slack. 'Thank you. Good work.'

I snap the reins fit to crack the sky and take off in a thunderstorm. The prince's orders to the troops echo through the plaza, and fade out behind me.

 _To be continued…_


	4. Blue Whip III

**~ Leonhard ~**

I'm scared. I don't think really I knew what fear meant before.

I've been scared of being laughed at. Of being beaten, of thunderstorms. Of being left alone, of disappointing people, but… that's not real fear. Because this is my heart hammering hard enough to break my ribs, my lungs not working, and my whole body shaking. This is being terrified.

'Comfortable?' I flinch, and Ralphien sighs, behind me. 'Careful, Prince. I've still got the knife.'

I know who he is now. Ralphien Graaz. One of many previous royal tutors. I was mainly responsibly for my brothers and I going through so many of them.

'L-Let me go.' I try to regain my poise, my pride. 'When my father finds out what you've done, he won't stop until he has your head!'

Ralphien laughs. 'Still naive, White Lily of Glanzreich. You're alone. Your hands are literally tied, I've got a blade, and the sun's starting to set. No one's coming for you. You should at least be trying to reason with me.'

I squeeze my eyes shut and yell, 'Just _shut up_!' I feel him shrug behind me. The horse carries us even further from Wienner. From home. I swallow. He's right. I don't think anyone knows where I am. But maybe… I can buy some time. At least. '…What do you want?'

'I want you dead, Prince. I'd say it's not personal, but it is.'

'But why?!' I protest.

Ralphien grips my arm. I wince. 'Why do you think? Because of you, I was fired and publicly disgraced. It's simple. Even you should be able to under—'

'You beat me with a _riding whip_ , you _idiot_!'

'Because you ran away from your lessons and needed punishment!'

'You can't abuse a student like that — it isn't right!' I snap. 'A teacher's task isn't to harm the _heart_!' Heine's words flash off my tongue before I know it. I blink in surprise.

Ralphien says nothing. 'What pretty words. I'm almost moved. Perhaps you've found a teacher that spares the rod and spoils the child rotten. Well? Do you think it's made a difference?'

'Yeah, and he's a better teacher than you'll ever be because he _cares about his students —_ '

A stinging blow. I gasp. My hand flames with red. With shame. 'That's enough, Prince.'

Tears pool, and blur my vision. _Stop it._ _Don't cry. Don't cry!_

 _'_ Don't cry, Prince. I'll get this over with soon.'

 _Get it over with. I want you dead._ The words throb. He means… dead. Truly. _Dead._ No. _No!_

I yank my arms from his grip and scream until my voice breaks. 'HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!'

Forlorn echoes. That's all. Ralphien laughs. 'There's no one out here to save you, Prince.'

 _But_ … Heine. The thought surprises me. I look over my shoulder, at the empty trail. _He doesn't know where I am. He couldn't rescue me._ The sky loses its colour and light, leaving the glow of amber eyes in my head. Amber in the grey. But it just makes me feel worse.

We go the less-trodden path. Riding through the dust.

…Am I going to die?

 _To be continued…_


	5. Blue Whip IV

**~ Heine ~**

 _Now focus._ I head west, galloping flat out through the streets of Wienner, heading for Raischt — an outlying rural area of Glanzreich. _Focus._ I need to clear my head and tune out all my emotions. Nothing less will be good enough. The air smells like rain. Heavy clouds are pressing down overhead, shot through with crimson. Not desirable, but I could use bad weather to my advantage if I have to.

I've got one gun. Five of six chambers loaded so I can't shoot myself by accident. It's been a while since I've used a gun and I don't want to take the risk. And I've got a stiletto blade. That, with my size, means that I can fight quickly. 'So what's your plan?' I murmur. _Locate Leonhard, neutralise his captor, and get the prince to safety._

The edges of Wienner abruptly taper out and fade into rolling hills and forests, patched with estates and farmland. _And how far are you willing to go?_ The question pries with a steady rhythm. I've never had to kill before. But I've left some brutalised opponents in my wake, in the past. It all depends on Herr Graaz himself, how well he can fight. Whether I can take him down painlessly before a fight can truly begin.

A tap on my hand. Raindrops spatter my skin and fall in a light drizzle. I grimace. This will get miserable quickly, and my horse is starting to tire. I don't want to run it into the ground, but the occasion calls for it. I weigh up the surrounding area as I ride. Ralphien's estate is hidden away in Raischt. If I don't pay attention, I'll miss it all together. I pull the sheaf of papers from my waistcoat, and read while sheltering them from the rain with my shoulders. My legs are starting to ache from standing upright on the saddle, and if this weather keeps up I'll slip and fall. It's getting dark. I can hardly read the writing.

Yugoss Manor. I reign in the horse. A lonely wooden post sticks out of a tangle of shrubbery. I dismount, and walk up, holding the reins and papers in one hand. I reach into the mess and pull out a wooden disc. 'Yugoss Manor,' I murmur. I'm here. I tie the horse up. I close my eyes for a second.

I essentially know nothing. Is he working alone? It sounded that way, but I can't assume that. Anyone could come at me, from anywhere, with any kind of weapon. And I don't know when backup will arrive.

I brush off the raindrops off my glasses, and exhale, drawing my gun. Let's get this over with.

I follow the dirt trail into the property, looking left and right, and turning back now and again to check I'm not being approached from behind. _Stay relaxed. Don't let them surprise you._ I walk silently. An empty manor house dominates the grounds. I approach, and slip in through a side door. _Don't overthink it._

I check through the house with the loaded and cocked gun in my hand. I'm not expecting to find anything. That would be too simple. And I'm right — the rooms are abandoned and only a few of them look as though they are lived in. I get down on my knees in the bedroom and feel under the bed for knives and guns, before opening the window curtains a crack. It doesn't feel right, that you can get up in the morning, get dressed, and go off to kill someone. I quiet my thoughts. I don't have time for them. Through the sliver of window, I can see a wooden barn near the house, half hidden by trees. My heartbeat quickens. _There._

I pad down the stairs, and leave the house. I pause. _Relax. Focus. Get in there._

I silently walk towards the barn. No open windows. The door is open a touch. With each step I can hear muffled voices. I tense. Are there only two? Is the prince in there?

'…Please, please, don't…'

'…lessons… punished…' The words slip dread into me like a knife and twist the blade.

I press one hand to the door. A shaft of light creeps into the barn.

Then I hear it. An rustle, a sliding along the ground. a zip through the air.

 _No —_

I slam the door open, and the whip arcs.

It kinks, races, hungry for skin and it cleaves the air and cuts the faintest line across Leonhard's chest, a scream leaving him in a punch, knocking him to the floor.

The braided cord at the tip deviates, startled, nicking a tiny crescent moon on an innocent face.

Ragged, tight gasps. Tears of shock splash down Leonhard's cheeks, mingling with a crimson thread.

The man has his back to me. He runs the whip through his hand. Stops. 'I… didn't mean to — ' He takes the woven leather and it runs through his teeth. 'Prince — '

I flick a bullet from my pocket and into my fingers and slam it into the empty chamber; I raise my gun and spin the barrel, a symphony of whimsical, rattling metal counting the down the seconds and fading like the end of a haunting waltz, and the barrel locks in with a solid click.

Ralphien whirls around.

The last time I fired a gun, I'd just taken out a room full of people with a six-by-four and I had the luxury of being able to fire a warning shot at the man I'd taken the gun from. I lick my lips and focus on the sights. Let's see how things play out this time.

Leonhard shakes his head, blinks, and looks at me. '…H-Heine?' _He probably can't believe his eyes._ He blinks away the tears, and smiles. Despite everything. 'You came. Y-You really came?'

My gaze flicks to Herr Ralphien. He's giving me a cold look. 'And you are?' he asks.

I don't know what he sees. I'm disheveled, wet, my hair's a mess, and I have the feeling he may think I'm a child. But judging by his eyes… I'm scaring him. 'I'm here for Prince Leonhard,' I say quietly.

He coils the whip, watches me. In, out. In, out. Rain drums a staccato beat on the roof. 'I'm curious now.' He shifts from one foot to the other. I narrow my eyes. He wants to see if I'll panic and shoot. 'You're obviously not from the Royal Guard. And you're so small…?'

 _Ugh. I may look like a child but I'm a full-grown adult —_ I restrain myself. _Don't react. That's what he wants._

'Herr Ralphien Graaz, or whomever you go by now. I'll ask from the outset. Release His Highness.' I tilt my head. Lift an eyebrow. 'Because I'd rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed.'

The whip slithers to life. 'I'm afraid there's nothing to discuss. I have business with the prince. So run on home, little boy _.'_

 _Don't react._ I'm still feeling in control, but I can sense that Ralphien is getting edgy. 'I'm not a child, sir.' I adjust my glasses. 'However, I don't think you would care either way… since you don't appear to have qualms about exploiting children.'

We hold each other's gazes. Then Ralphien swiftly kicks Prince Leonhard in the ribs.

Leonhard cries out. My gaze snaps to him. _A ploy —_

My gun kicks and the shot goes wild. Ralphien tackles, slamming me to the ground.

Not good enough. I pull my legs up for a solid kick and his momentum sends him over my head and into a support beam. I spring to my feet and vault backwards. Distance. Stay in control. _He's got a whip —_

It streaks through the air, straight for my head. I dodge. The crack explodes in my ears and the air blurs. _If he thinks he can't catch you with it, he'll attack again —_

A knife. I sidestep and slash his arm with my own blade, and block his counterstrike. Our blades shriek, scraping on each other. I risk a glance at Leonhard. Will he make a run for it? I edge backwards, and Ralphien follows, pressuring me.

'Prince! Run!'

Leonhard gets to his knees. Pain flashes. His eyes dart to his leg. _He can't_. My heart sinks.

I disengage and Ralphien loses his balance. I dart back, get some distance. What now? Leonhard can't run — can't use his legendary speed to escape. I need to wrap this up. Ralphien hasn't resorted to using Leonhard as a shield, but there's no telling at what point he'll snap and lose control.

Ralphien lunges out of the shadows. _Khh —_ I block, but the blow to my wrists sends my knife skittering away and he manages to knock me to the ground. We crash through the open barn doors and into the torrential downpour outside.

My gun stabs his chest. His knife bites my neck.

Ralphien's hand presses down on me. Hard. 'Well. It seems we've some to an impasse.'

I'm not in a good position. He's on top of me. The rain is blurring my sight… but I don't need to be able to see to shoot him at such point-blank range. 'What was your plan? You think you could make it out of Glanzreich after killing their beloved prince?'

He shrugs. 'Who knows? Either way, I'll have had my revenge, so who cares — '

Ralphien's eyes shutter. I blink the rainwater out of my eyes.

Prince Leonhard has my stiletto blade at Ralphien's throat. He's gritting his teeth. Keeping his weight off one leg.

I try not to panic. 'Prince, please move.'

Leonhard's eyes dart to me. He's scared. He doesn't even know how to hold the knife. Like a child that doesn't know how to use his cutlery. 'But Heine —'

'If I have to shoot him, the bullet will go through you too. Amongst other things. Get out. Run.'

Leonhard's hand starts trembling. His words melt into the roar of the rain. 'But — '

'Move!' I snap.

The words spill out in a desperate mess and he says, 'But what about you?!'

 _Me?_ 'I'll be fine. Once you get out of the way and I can fight without having to worry about — '

A piercing whistle blast cuts through the rain. _What?_ My eyes dart up — it's the Royal Guard — _Oh no._ Ralphien jumps off me and I lunge forward, snatching at his arm. _Oh no no no —_

My fingers close on thin air. In front of Prince Leonhard's terrified face. _No._ The mouth of a pistol nuzzles his temple. An arm traps him, holds him close. _Graaz had a pistol this whole time._

The very thing I didn't want to happen. Ralphien has Leonhard as a shield.

I lower my gun.

'Herr Wittgenstein!' I can hear the soldiers approaching through the rain.

Ralphien laughs. I look around. We're surrounded from every angle. Soldiers are poised with rifles, and foot soldiers are standing to the side. Even Prince Kai is here, guarded by Ludwig. Kai whitens.

I can't meet Leonhard's eyes. 'Stay where you are,' I order the soldiers. 'He has the prince.'

A deathly silence steals over the clearing.

'Well,' Ralphien says, looking at the guard units with amusement. 'It looks as though the calvary has quite literally arrived. What a shame. At the rate you were going, you could have killed me and saved your precious prince if these idiots hadn't shown up.' His eyes narrow. 'It's quite obvious that you prefer working alone… "Herr Wittgenstein."' He points. And I throw the gun over my shoulder.

The rain falls quietly. It's true. If I hadn't been distracted… Prince Leonhard and I might be free by now. I've been working on my own for too long. I'm too used to fighting on my own.

But Prince Leonhard is still alive. And that means this isn't over yet.

'So what now?' I risk a glance to the side. At Prince Kai. Our eyes lock.

'Well,' Ralphien muses. 'I suppose I could try to get away. But one can only run for so long. So I may as well kill the prince and then you can do what you will to me. So really, It seems I just have to stay alive till then.'

Horror whitewashes everyone's faces.

Leonhard whimpers faintly, and one of the soldiers raises his rifle. I tense. _No —_

Ralphien squeezes the trigger. The bullet scorches Leonhard's hair and ricochets. He cries out, clamping a hand to his ear. _A shot that close… He'll be deaf for a while._ Smoke drifts around us.

A soldier falls from his horse. Bleeding. _D_it._

 _'_ Don't be foolish,' Ralphien says, raising his voice for everyone's benefit. 'You'll only make it worse for him.'

 _Now._ I reach out a hand. 'Please, wait.' I expected to have to pretend, but my voice is breaking on its own. Ralphien edges away, eyes narrowed. Still pinning Leonhard in a tight grip. 'Please — '

I wince. My hand falters. I draw it back, press it to my mouth, and cough, uncontrollably.

Blood spatters my hand.

Leonhard's eyes widen. Shaken blue framed in so much white. 'H-Heine!'

I double over, holding my ribs. 'Nnnh…'

Ralphien raises an eyebrow. 'Seems you weren't so invincible after all.'

I close my eyes.

' _Heine!_ '

'Teacher!'

'G-Get him out of there! Now!'

A pair of arms lifts me up and carries me off. _I'm sorry…_

I open my eyes a crack, as I'm put down behind a tangled mess of trees. Ralphien is out of sight. Prince Kai breaks away from his guards and runs to my side. 'Teacher!' He drops to his knees beside me, chest heaving. 'Professor Heine!'

 _I'm sorry,_ _Prince Leonhard._ And I pull my salvaged gun from beneath my legs. _I'll rescue you in a minute._ I sit up and yank Prince Kai close. 'I'm fine,' I say under my breath. 'It was a ruse. I bit the inside of my mouth hard enough to draw blood.' I spin the barrel of my revolver and pull the hammer back. 'I _told_ Prince Bruno to tell you and your brothers to stay _out of this_.'

Kai winces, but doesn't look away. _Viktor, you should have stopped him…_ 'I'll have words with your father later,' I grumble. I look at Kai. 'I won't ask you to fight, Prince, that's my job. But when you get the chance, I want you and the soldiers to get Leonhard to safety.'

Kai's sharp eyes start burning. As if they weren't fierce enough already. I remember Viktor, burning up behind a facade with an almost inhuman rage in his eyes. Like father, like son. Kai nods. 'Acknowledged.'

'I want you to lie low while the soldiers negotiate, so Ralphien's attention isn't on you. I'm going to circle around and attack him from behind. You get Prince Leonhard out while I'm fighting Ralphien.'

Kai's eyes narrow at Ralphien's name, and he helps me to my feet. I wipe the rain from my glasses. The forest flashes white and thunder splits the air overhead. 'We've got to hurry. We don't have any time left.'

I turn and slip through the trees. I get as far away as I can before circling around. Occasionally, I catch glimpses of Leonhard through the trees and soldiers. Not only do I have to avoid Ralphien noticing me, I have to avoid all of the soldiers. It would only take one of them reacting to tip Ralphien off.

The rain masks my footsteps. Soldiers have them surrounded on three sides, and the barn is on the fourth side. I'll get in through the back of it and approach from behind. I make it past the soldiers, lift the bar on the rear door that I noted earlier, and slip inside.

I can see them. Ralphien has the gun by Prince Leonhard's head, but not directly touching it. I'm not going to get another chance. I have to end this now. Lightning bleeds from a weeping cut in the sky. _Wait._

Thunder rolls. I walk up, moving quickly. Gun in one hand, knife in the other, because I can't ignore the faintest chance that the rain is rotting the inner workings of my revolver even as I move. They say that you can sense someone's intent to kill. Can you sense the intent to destroy? I raise the gun and flex the fingers of my other hand. _Now._

I smash the gun out of his hand with the hilt of the knife and shoot him through the other elbow.

He shrieks. Leonhard hits the ground and lands hard.

Ralphien snarls and lunges after him, saying 'No you _don't_ —'

Prince Kai snatches Leonhard up and Ralphien's fingers snatch at air, and I crash into him with fingers in sharp claws. 'Give it up.' I dig my knees into his back, and bend his mangled arm to the snapping point. He bites back a scream and swears at me. I've heard worse. 'Give up. It's over.'

His hair falls in his eyes, hides the madness. 'You really do have me curious, you know. Who are you?'

I smile bitterly. 'I can't refuse a dying wish. My name is Heine Wittgenstein. I am the royal tutor.'

Ralphien laughs. His shoulders shake, silently. Endlessly.

I lose patience and backhand him in the head. He goes out like a light. 'I'm getting tired of this, sir.'

I get up, and sheath my knife and holster my gun. All the soldiers are staring. I walk past them, to Prince Kai, who holds Leonhard in his arms. I rest two fingers on the prince's neck. A pulse, faint, but there.

I turn and flick blood from my fingers. 'Take Ralphien Graaz into custody. He is guilty of the attempted assassination of a prince of Glanzreich.'

The soldiers disperse, either mounting their horses and departing, or helping to restrain and take Herr Graaz away. A carriage bearing the royal family's crest approaches.

Leonhard's eyes flicker open. The blue is too pure in all this rain and blood and mess. 'You came,' he whispers. He blushes. 'You really came.'

A footman opens the carriage doors. Kai watches me. After a moment, I brush Leonhard's hair from his eyes. 'I said that I would never fail you, didn't I?' Leonhard smiles weakly. Closes his eyes.

I glance over my shoulder. Herr Graaz has disappeared behind the wall of soldiers. Ludwig stands guard beside us. 'Let's go, Prince Kai. We're done here.'

We climb into the carriage, and leave Raischt behind.

Rain pours in solid sheets outside the windows. A steady thunder. Kai still holds Leonhard in his arms.

I'm starting to shiver; Leonhard and I are both drenched to the skin. I notice there are blankets in a pile beneath the seats, and I pull them out. 'Prince Leonhard and I are going to catch cold at this rate.'

'Oh. Right.' Kai unfastens Leonhard's jacket. His shoulders tense, and I move to sit beside him. The fabric is parted in a slash. The faintest crimson line marks Leonhard's chest. It's hardly even bleeding, yet it still writes an ugly story on his skin. Kai's hands quiver.

I ease off Leonhard's jacket and shirt. 'Thank God I arrived when I did.' And I mean it.

A vein tightens in Kai's jaw, rage simmering under the surface. 'That… Why? Leo's a kind boy… How could someone…'

I set Leonhard's clothes aside. 'I don't know.' The bleeding doesn't even need to be staunched, but I rip up Leonhard's shirt and bandage the wound anyway. I'm not a doctor, and we'll reach the palace soon. I'll leave proper care to the professionals. I knot the bandages, and pull Leonhard's jacket over his shoulders. Over chiseled muscle and smooth skin. His hair is wet. One side is shorter than the other. And burnt.

He looks so like him. So much.

I sit back, and unbutton my waistcoat. I colour slightly. 'Ah, Prince Kai…' He glances over. 'Please… excuse this.'

He tilts his head. I grimace, and remove my dripping-wet waistcoat and shirt.

Kai merely drapes a blanket around my shoulders. Seeing as he typically walks around the palace half-dressed himself, I'm not surprised at his reaction. Or lack of it. I wring out my clothes, ignoring the faded scars that mark my chest, that follow the sharp curves and dips of my back and disappear into the waist of my trousers. While getting dry is necessary, I will most certainly not return to the palace like this.

We approach Weisburg Palace. I pull on my damp clothes, and sink back into the seat. I look out the window. My reflection looks back. I look like a wreck. That took more out of me than I thought it would.

The carriage stops. Prince Kai hefts Prince Leonhard into his arms and climbs down. I follow. Rain pours in a crackling rattle and soaks us through.

'Prince Leonhard is safe! He's returned! Prince Kai! You're all right!'

Kai looks over his shoulder, as the cries and cheers follow us into the palace. I gaze back. _I'm not here for show, Prince Kai. My work is in the shadows. I'm not meant to be in the spotlight. Frankly, I wouldn't like it there._

'Leonhard!' We look up. Viktor sprints down the stairs, almost tripping and flying headlong across the marble. I skid out of the way — much in the way one avoids an incoming train on the tracks — and Viktor runs to Leonhard, taking him in his arms.

' _Leo! Leonie!_ ' Licht and Bruno race helter-skelter down the steps.

'He's all right, Father,' Kai says. 'Professor Heine saved him.'

Viktor holds Leonhard close, biting back tears. Ever the emotional one. But the situation justifies it. 'Thank you, Heine,' he chokes out.

I head for the stairs. 'He needs medical attention. See to it at once.'

 _Oh. I just ordered the king…_

'As you wish,' Viktor says. We exchange a look. I nod, and leave Viktor with his sons.

 _To be continued…_


	6. Blue Whip V

**~ Heine ~**

So far, it's only my first day as a bodyguard and I've managed to bruise my back, my legs, graze my forearm, and cut the inside of my mouth. I need to develop some prevention strategies… or otherwise the palace physician will tire of me fairly quickly. I walk down the halls, and knock at the door of Leonhard's room. I think under the circumstances, I can give the princes the day off tomorrow. Thereby meaning I can go to bed without preparing their lessons.

The door swings open, and a maid steps out with Leonhard's torn jacket folded in her arms. Her two corkscrew curls bounce. 'Oh, Professor Heine.'

I nod. 'Helene. I came to see His Highness.' I pass her and enter. A soft glow of candles and starlight bathes the dark room. 'How is he doing?'

'He's asleep. The palace physician left a little while ago.' She curtseys and slips out behind me. I whisper something to her and she nods, before walking down the hall.

Wood smoulders in the fireplace. I sit on the edge of Prince Leonhard's bed, watching him. He's been carefully propped up in bed like a fragile doll, re-bandaged, no doubt after painstaking care taken to stitch him up. He should heal without scarring.

Blond hair. Bandages and bare skin. My breath catches. They look so similar. He and Viktor look so similar. For a moment, it feels as though I've stepped back in time.

I turn away and gaze into the fire. If he's been anaesthetised, it's unlikely that he'll wake up. I'll —

'Heine?'

 _Oh._ 'I didn't mean to wake you, Prince. I just wanted to check on you.'

The memory of what happened sinks into his eyes. 'I-I'm fine. But what about you, I thought — '

I touch my cheek. Ah. I was coughing up blood in front of him earlier today, so his confusion is merited. 'Just tricks, Prince. I'm fine.'

'Oh. M-hm.' He fingers the edge of the quilt. '…Thanks. Heine. For… today.'

'I just happened to get to you in time — '

'You saved my _life_!' I raise an eyebrow — I think it came out a little louder than he wanted. He blushes and runs a hand through his hair. 'I mean… I hoped you'd save me. It was stupid, but then… there you were. And I was happy. To see you.'

'I am glad I was able to be of service. I merely wish I had only been able to reach you sooner.' I look at him. 'Are you all right, Prince?'

Any pretence he was making at a smile falters.

His hands are shaking. Fingers trembling like a spinning coin that can't decide which way to fall.

I shift over and sit beside him, arms around his shoulders, both of us pretending that he's not crying. 'I-I was so scared. And I couldn't do anything, it was pathetic, a-and I — '

I stroke his hair. 'Shh. You can rest easy now. You're safe.'

Slowly, his breathing calms. The tears take little longer to die down. He's proud, and insecure, and blushes and cries more often than a girl, but… I just hold him close. The only trace of pain remaining is a faint blush. Wouldn't something like this upset anyone?

'You're not in pain, Prince?'

Leonhard fingers the bandages running over his chest. A plaster covers the nick on his cheek. 'No. It… actually doesn't hurt.'

I let him go, and sit with my legs swinging above the floor. 'You'll be sore for days once the ether wears off.'

'You don't need to be so blunt!'

And he's back. Then again… it probably feels like a dream to him now. The palace is a far cry from the abandoned countryside of Raischt. I wonder, despite his distress, if he truly realises how much danger he was in.

No one can ever truly know what another person is thinking, either. I look at him over my shoulder. Even though his body may heal quickly, he could scar inside. My chest tightens.

'You're creeping me out,' Leonhard says warily. 'Stop staring at me.' I don't respond, and he slams a fist down on the counterpane. 'Your bedside manner is horrendous.'

Strike that, he's not suffering from stress-induced trauma at all. I get up and adjust my glasses. 'I see you're back to your old self. Goodnight, Highness.'

Leonhard takes my hand. 'Wait. You sort of saved my life, so… Sorry. You know.' Surprised, I turn to him. He colours. 'I'm still not going to be a model student or anything! And you still get on my nerves! But when I needed you…' He looks away. 'You were there for me. So… yeah.'

I don't know quite what to say. 'Very well, Prince. I hope you've at least learned something from this ordeal.' I wince. He doesn't need lecturing. I spoke out of habit.

'Well…' Leonhard hesitates. His lip quivers. 'He… wasn't right, was he? I-I mean… I guess… maybe I hurt his feelings — a long time ago — but…'

Something inside me breaks, a splintering crack. 'Any adult should know better than to do something as horrendous as this. Of course it wasn't right.' My fingers slip through his. 'We can build people up or tear them down, Prince, but we can't control how they act. We can only do the best that we can do.'

'I know my brothers and I sent away a lot of royal tutors… I guess… I don't know…

'I don't think that they all would have gone criminally insane or died of broken hearts, Prince. There's a phrase that goes, "The exception, not the rule." I imagine this was the exception.' I chuckle, a faint noise in the back of my throat. 'We adults are _meant_ to try and act with some amount of dignity.' I let his hand go, place it in his lap. 'I'm glad you're learning to be sensitive, however.'

He smiles. Always happy to be praised. 'It won't happen again. Kicking out royal tutors, I mean.' He laughs awkwardly. 'Not that it really can, now that you're our tutor.' He pauses. 'Oh, and… I wanted to ask you something.' He hesitates, before swallowing and looking me in the eye. 'Teach me how to fight.'

I should have seen this coming. He certainly doesn't wait long. I give him a look. 'Pardon?'

'Uh… Oh, teach me how to fight _please_ ,' he amends.

'No.'

Leonhard blinks. 'Wait, what? But I said please!'

'Yes, truly praiseworthy. If one were five years old.'

'Hey!' He crosses his arms. '…You're just saying no to spite me…'

'Please be assured that I'm not.' I rest a hand on the holster strapped to my side. 'Learning to fight means learning how to kill, Prince. Do you realise that?'

Leonhard looks uncertain. 'But I study fencing…'

'Which is an amusing pursuit to pass the time with.' Leonhard looks offended. 'I'm jesting. But still. There's a difference between practicing the sword and what I think you're asking me to teach you.'

I finger the metal hammer of the revolver that I rest my hand on. 'Prince, I'll try to keep this brief. Real fighting is killing. As you learned today, real opponents don't follow rules, and they won't play fair or be gentle because you're a child. If you fight, you have to be willing to kill or maim, because they won't just run away and leave you alone.' I unsheathe my knife and rest the blade on my palm. 'And it doesn't matter how hard you train, or how talented you are — there's always going to be someone better than you. Bigger, stronger. Fighting means being willing to kill, and knowing you could be killed in turn.'

'But you're really good yourself,' Leonhard says, confused. 'Yet you're telling me that I shouldn't…'

'Because you're a child. And don't give me that look — I know you're fifteen years old. That's young enough that you shouldn't have to make decisions as to taking a life and having to bear the responsibility for that choice. Being a child means you have people to protect you and make those decisions for you.'

'Like you?'

'…Yes. Like me. Like your father. I only learned how to fight because I couldn't have survived otherwise.' I sheath the knife. 'And because I had other people depending on me to protect them. In hindsight, if I had a choice in the matter, maybe I would have chosen differently.'

'Well, I'm glad things ended up the way they did,' Leonhard says quietly. 'Because I wouldn't be here… if it wasn't for you.' He bites his lip, and tangles his fingers in his hair. I know what he's feeling.

'…But I will teach you how to defend yourself.'

Leonhard looks up. 'Huh?'

'I won't teach you how to fight. You shouldn't have that responsibility at your age. But fighting and self-defence are two different things. I think you and your brothers learning some basic defence techniques certainly wouldn't hurt.'

Leonhard's eyes light up. 'Right.' He smiles.

His fingers halt, touching the burnt ends of his hair. 'What…?'

 _The lock of hair in the envelope._ 'Didn't you have a lock of your hair cut off?'

Leonhard bites his lip. 'Yeah, but what I do now? One side's shorter than the other!'

'What a dilemma.' I sit beside him again. 'Let me see. I think it can be fixed.'

Leonhard grimaces. 'How, by hacking off the other side?'

I sigh. 'No.' I weave the shorter side into a braid. I take a few hairpins from my pocket, and pin the end beneath the rest of his hair. I do the same to the other side. With his hair up, he looks older. A little more mature, even.

'Hm? Why do you have those?'

'They're for picking handcuff locks.'

Leonhard looks in the mirror standing nearby. His eyes widen. 'What, are you a hairdresser now?'

I take a comb from his bedside table and start unsnarling his hair. 'No. At the church I used to teach at, the boys would pull the little girls' hair, and for some inexplicable reason they always came crying to me to help them redo their braids.'

Leonhard chuckles. It's good to be able to hear him laugh so soon. His eyes flicker close, and I set the comb aside. 'Wait a moment.'

Leonhard opens one eye. 'Wait a moment, _please_. What is it? I'm really tired, can it wait?'

I shrug, and glance over as the door opens. 'Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.' Helene slips in with a silver cloche and passes it to me, and slips out again. I lift the cloche to reveal a plate of Sachertorte. Leonhard's favourite dessert — a chocolate gateau with apricot jam filling and chocolate icing.

His eyes are sparkling so much that I have to hide a smile. One of the first things I learned about him was what his favourite dessert was. That and the fact that he hated teachers. 'Brings back memories, no?'

'You're amazing, Heine.'

'I save your life and _this_ is what I get such high praise for?'

Leonhard crosses his arms. 'Just hand it over. Please.'

'As you wish,' I say, and take a forkful for myself.

Leonhard's jaw drops. 'Wh… wha…?'

I cover my mouth with my hand and try to talk around my mouthful. 'Checking for poison.'

'Yeah, like _ you are!'

'Truly.' He's too miffed to realise the gravity of what I just said, thankfully. The last thing he needs is to have his favourite dessert ruined by the possibility of it being poisoned. 'Here you go,' I say, and hand the plate over.

One bite of chocolate, and his face glows with happiness. As predictable as ever. I think even Glanzreich's national insurance policy was born out of one of Leonhard's methods for making a stash of Sachertorte last as long as possible…

The cake has already disappeared without a trace. 'My word, Prince…'

'I didn't have dinner. I was a little busy being kidnapped.'

'Yes, yes. How is it that you don't put on weight?'

'Hmph.' He points the fork at me and sighs. 'You know I'm an athlete. I just work it off.'

'I'll have to just worry about your dental health instead. Goodnight, Prince. Sweet dreams.'

'Mmm… Good…' And he's asleep before he can finish the sentence.

I take the empty plate. I pull the covers up over his shoulders, blow out the candles, and leave, closing the door behind me.

I pass the plate to Helene and she whisks it off to the kitchen. I lean against the wall, and take a breath for what feels like the first time this evening. I'm truly glad he's all right — that he's happy and healthy. That's all that matters.

 _…_ _But I will be glad as long as you are happy and healthy. I'm your father, after all._

My eyes snap open, as words I once heard Viktor tell Bruno slip through my head.

I think… Is this is the same feeling Viktor was describing?

Is this what it would feel like to be a father?

I gaze at the floor, then head for Viktor's chambers. The guards let me in. Viktor is at his desk, a fountain pen dangling from his fingers.

'I truly can't thank you enough,' he says.

I lean into the desk and rest my elbows on the wood. 'It's my pleasure. I was just with Prince Leonhard, and he's doing well.'

'Heine.' Viktor takes my hand. 'I mean it. I knew the kind of situations that would come up in the future, but… Thank you.'

'Anytime,' I say quietly. I look at him. 'But when you hired me, was this what you had in mind?'

Viktor's eyes tighten. 'No. So now I'm at even more of a loss.'

We don't say anything further. Leonhard is only the fourth prince. It's not as though they attacked Prince Eins — the next in line to the throne — so their logic makes no sense. On top of that, only just the other day Viktor revealed to me that trying to have Eins taken out of the royal line before he can seize the throne, for reasons that Viktor hasn't even told me yet.

Whatever way you look at it — the kingdom needs all four of the younger princes alive — for a chance to overthrow their elder brother and establish a new line of succession.

Viktor spatters a signature on one document after another. The day's events will have wreaked havoc with his work. 'Would you like a drink? You've certainly earned it. I'll even spare you the usual jokes.'

'I'm tempted, but no. I'm going to retire to bed shortly. This took more out of me than I thought.'

'I can well imagine. Flag the boys' lessons tomorrow, for your sake as much as theirs.'

'I was going to ask. Thank you. That reminds me, I strongly resent that Kai got involved.'

Viktor sets down his pen. 'I was not pleased either. He left before Bruno's relay of the warning concerning Graaz was sent to the palace. When Kai heard that you were putting yourself on the line and that the military was getting involved, he joined them before I could even hear about it.' Viktor gives me a weary smile. 'I'm sorry. If your warning had arrived in time, maybe there would have been a chance I could have stopped him.'

'I see,' I mutter. 'That sounds like him. Prince Kai was a valuable asset to have in the situation, and I think Leonhard was comforted by his presence, as well. But it can never happen again. Having one prince in danger is a liability in itself, without others throwing themselves into the fray on a whim.'

'It's refreshing to have someone tell me off, Heine. People rarely dare to do it.' Viktor exhales, and nods. 'Don't worry, I'm well aware. Please tell the boys as much as you see fit, to prepare them for any future situations.'

'I intend to do so.' I head for the door. 'I would also like to teach them some basic self-defence, if I have your permission.'

'As you wish,' Viktor says. 'I know they'll be in good hands with you. I trust you.' He drags the tip of the quill pen across the page. 'That reminds me. Maximilian has been reprimanded and punished for his lapse in duty, but I… had some mercy on him, given the somewhat drastic circumstances. That and I couldn't deny his efforts — he nearly killed himself running back to the palace to warn us in time.'

I wonder what Maxmillian would have felt: when he found that bloodied letter on the floor and realised Prince Leonhard was nowhere to be seen. I wonder what I would have felt if I had been there. I'm glad Viktor was able to talk himself down from a harsher punishment.

I don't think it was what Viktor intended, but Maximilian's fate was a warning nonetheless. Of what will happen to me if I fail.

'One last thing,' I say. 'Herr Graaz.'

Viktor's face shifts. 'He'll be executed as an enemy of the crown.' _I thought so._ 'I might have settled for life imprisonment… but given that he's mentally unhinged and bent on taking Leonhard's life… I don't think we can risk leaving him alive even if he was incarcerated. Regardless of all of that, attempted assassination of crown royalty is punishable by death.'

Yes. As I of all people would know.

I keep my face blank, and Viktor doesn't notice. Or realise what he said. Which is for the better, as bitter nostalgia isn't going to help anyone now.

'Rest assured,' he says, 'I do not intend for the matter to be made public. Leonhard doesn't need to know the details now, if ever.'

'Understood.'

I turn to close the door, already forgetting my discomfort with yet something else now on my mind.

Viktor raises his fingers in farewell. He gives me a knowing look. 'Take care… Heine.'

He can read me like a book. I close the door.

There's still one thing I have to do.

 _To be continued..._


	7. Blue Whip VI

**~ Heine ~**

The cell door grinds open. The metal bars shriek on stone. The whispers rustle.

I step into the cell.

'Well, it's the royal tutor.' Graaz sits, shackled, on a platform bed chained to the wall. 'Come to teach me a lesson?'

My hand moves at my belt. Three feet of leather uncoils and slithers at my feet, the metal tip dancing like a serpent's head. Murmurs erupt amongst the guards on the other side of the bars. Not legal, definitely not something that I should have in my possession.

Graaz whitens and I step forward. 'Violence and discipline are not synonymous, despite what you may believe. I'm not here to teach you a lesson.'

I hold up the whip handle. 'I'm here to punish you.'

Graaz manages a weak laugh. 'Well you're a little fanatical — '

The whip whispers across the floor. The cell is cold and grey. 'I take it you went insane later in life?'

'Well, everyone's a little crazy, aren't they? I mean, you're one to talk.'

'You beat Prince Leonhard with a riding whip.'

'We were in the stables. I'd left my teacher's whacker somewhere. Same difference.'

The whip dances faster. 'You were sent away in disgrace; you changed your name and disappeared.'

'Clever boy. I guess you coerced those librarians into helping you.'

Faster. 'You attempted to bring about the demise of the fourth prince of Glanzreich.'

'Yeah. And?'

'You figuratively screamed your intentions from the rooftops with a letter that dared us to stop you.'

'I wanted to see the look on everyone's faces. You know — a little validation.'

It blurs. '…I think it's clear which one of us is "mentally unstable," sir.'

'You could just say insane.'

And lies still. I prowl towards him, one step after the other. 'You're going to be executed tomorrow.'

'I figured as much.'

'So tell me something. Why now? Why not when the injury to your pride was fresh? Because it couldn't have taken you all these years to come up with such a simple plan.'

He eyes the whip.

'…I can't really remember. I think a friend reminded me. Or I could have just sat down and thought, "You know what, why don't you do something for you for once in your life?"' He grins and throws up his hands. 'Eh, you can beat me to death if you want. But I may not actually remember, so don't dirty those pretty little hands for no good reason.'

I grimace. Disgusted. 'Unlike you, I have a conscience, and prefer being able to sleep at night.'

Graaz looks curious. 'You're religious? Seems rather contradictory.'

I run the whip through my fingers. 'Really?'

'You don't think you'll be judged for what you're doing? You haven't even had to kill anyone yet.'

'On the contrary. I know I'll be judged.' I can see the amber glow of my eyes reflected in his. 'It's a calculated risk. If you're going to sin for someone else's sake, you have to pay the penalty regardless. If you're going to walk the line between heaven and hell, you have to be prepared to be judged.'

Graaz edges back. 'Come on. A good Christian is meant to turn the other cheek.'

I flick the metal tip with my fingers. It bites. 'The Scriptures say, "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." They also say, "Recompense a fifth." While better in theory than in practice…'

The whip streaks over my head, and splits the air — scores the faintest line and nicks his face.

He screams and cracks his head against the stone wall. The whip's metal was not kind.

'…I still find that the teachings hold true even after all this time.' I neatly coil the whip. I leave, and rest a hand on the doorframe. 'Be grateful you only struck the prince once. I'm afraid I'm not… a very forgiving person. You hurt one of my students. Unchristian though it may be… I can't let that go.'

Graaz manages a disbelieving laugh. 'I can see why Leonhard likes you. You're a pretty d_ cool teacher. H_, I'm almost inspired to give it another shot myself.' Strangely, a hint of regret. 'Except I imagine I'd get in trouble for mishandling my students.'

'We're done here.'

He gives me a wave. 'Guess this is farewell. I definitely won't be seeing you in Heaven.'

I walk out of the cell and slam the door shut. 'I'm glad you have some grasp of reality.'

'Hey. Wait. You think there's something going on in Glanzreich, don't you?'

I don't look back.

'Fine. Watch your back, little professor. Or rather, watch those princes!' I pass through the bars and melt into the shadows and faded blue light. Laughter echoes behind me. It's over. And yet…

 _There's something's going on in Glanzreich._

…I have the feeling this is only just beginning.

 _End of Act 1: Blue Whip_

 _To be continued in Act 2: Yellow Poison…_

* * *

 **A/N:** And there we have the end of beginning. Did you enjoy it? Not what you were expecting? It's a pretty niche idea, I know: 'Oh, bodyguards. And things.' But given that my 'normal' writing is usually full of action, weapons, and overcomplicated plots packed with political drama (as well as my usual 'unique' humour), I guess it's not that surprising, right? Reviews, feedback, criticism, and questions are most welcome, and the story continues in the next act...


	8. Yellow Poison I

**~ Heine ~**

'Morning!' Prince Licht ambushes me from behind and I nearly spill my coffee over my newspaper.

'Could you please try to contain your good mood, Prince?'

Bruno sips his melange and doesn't even look up from his book. 'Licht, sit and eat your breakfast.'

Licht grabs a piece of toast off Kai's plate, points it at Bruno, and leans against my chair. 'Well, then _you_ shouldn't read at the table!'

I turn the page. 'Frankly, _I'll_ stop reading at the table when everybody is in their right mind for once and able to hold a sensible conversation… but am I to be reprimanded as well?'

Licht pulls his hair over his shoulder, takes a bite of toast. 'Brunie's the one I'm arguing with, so you can open a bookstore on the table or start swinging from the chandeliers for all I care.'

Despite myself, I look up. I don't think I could even jump high enough to grab the lowest crystal.

'Do you even hear yourself, Licht?' Bruno slams down his book. 'And _use a serviette_!'

Licht looks up, licking crumbs off his gloved fingers. 'Hmm?'

'You are a disgrace!'

Licht sighs and plops down in a chair beside me. 'Gee, wow… Where have I heard that before?'

'Our dog has better manners than you — '

'Oh, now I'm gonna — '

'Prince?' I say. 'Breakfast. Eat.'

Licht gives me a lazy salute. 'Yes, Captain.' Bruno and Kai pick up their conversation again, and suddenly Prince Licht pulls my newspaper up, hiding us from the two other princes. 'How's Leo?'

I had managed to put the events of yesterday out of my head for a minute. 'He needs to rest so that his wounds can heal, but he was doing well when I visited him last night.'

'That's good.' Licht bites his lip. 'I feel kind of bad… I was the only one who didn't do anything.'

'You simply weren't needed.'

'Hey!' Licht protests.

'I'm sure Prince Leonhard would appreciate some company later, however.'

'No problem.' Licht winds a strand of hair around his finger. 'I had something I wanted to ask you — '

'I'm not going to tell you my age or height or backstory or teach you how to fight, so don't even ask.'

'I'm not, I — wait, what? …Anyway, no, I've got myself into a little situation…'

'What are you talking about?'

I look over the top of the newspaper. Bruno and Kai have stopped mid-conversation, perplexed. 'Your brother seems to have got himself into trouble,' I say, and raise the newspaper again, and glance at Licht.

'It's nothing bad!' he protests.

Given the recent turn of events, and knowing my luck, he's fallen for a femme fatale assassin and she's after his life. 'Just spit it out.'

'It's the Golden Masquerade Gala.'

I blink. 'Please explain.'

'Good grief,' Bruno says. 'Licht, you are so self-centred that you could start your own solar-system.'

Licht sticks his tongue out. 'Wow, astronomy jokes.'

'Again, please explain.'

Licht sobers up, and fiddles with his hair. 'I can't believe I'm saying this, but Bruno may be right. I was planning on cancelling what I've got on this week given… everything. But the Gala is one of the biggest social events in the kingdom. As much as I enjoy it for the sake of it, I'm also pulling my weight as a representative of the royal family. But now I don't know what to do.'

Bruno is losing patience. 'You're merely chatting up women at these affairs, are you not? Isn't — '

'Someone from the royal family has to attend and _you'd_ scare away all the girls in a hundred-yard radius. These looks aren't just for show — I can pull my weight, believe it or not!'

 _…_ _I'm not going to enter into that._

Licht sighs. 'Also, I don't know who I can get to accompany me.'

 _Ah. Of course._ I know that Ludwig has been ordered to personally guard Leonhard until further notice. In other words, until Herr Graaz loses his head, some time this morning I believe. Rather, until he has his head forcibly removed from his shoulders, in contrast with his mental state. And if Maximilian is here at the palace with Bruno and Kai… Licht won't have a guard.

I fold the newspaper and set it aside. 'Very well. In that case, I will accompany you.'

Licht practically sparkles, and I flinch. 'Eh, really?! Yay! I didn't even have to beg!'

'Don't be ridiculous.' I decide now may as well be the time to tell them. 'I technically hold the role of bodyguard for you and your brothers now. Your father requested it as a favour. It's my job to accompany you to these kind of events.'

Licht tilts his head. 'Ah… That explains why you suddenly look like a walking armoury. I haven't had the chance to ask.' He grins. 'It's like something out of a novel.' He waves a hand over my hair and asks, 'But how are you meant to take bullets for us? They'll probably just go right over your head.'

I drain my coffee and sharply set it down on the table. 'I can make your enemies' lives hell on earth regardless of my height, Prince.'

'Ooh, I want to see you in action now.' Licht gets up from the table. 'Well, see you later. Remember to dress up. The Gala starts at eight, so we'll leave at seven-thirty.'

I sigh. 'It's tonight?'

Licht gives an embarrassed laugh. 'Well, that's why I'm asking.'

'Fine… just remember that the three of you still have lessons today.'

'Yeah yeah — sorry, a certain someone's waiting on me, gotta run, bye!' He winks and dashes from the room.

'Such base behaviour,' Bruno mutters.

'Quite.'

Dress up… I'll just wear whatever best conceals my weapons, I suppose.

 _To be continued…_


	9. Yellow Poison II

**~ Estiella ~**

 _Last night…_

'Mother? Father?'

'D-Darling, why are you up at this hour?'

'…I heard voices. …Who is he?'

'Well, she's as cute as a button. Perfect. I'll cut to the chase, sweetheart. I've got a job for you.'

'Sir, please — '

'Please don't interrupt me. Sir.'

'…Who are you?'

'A customer. Now, let's talk.'

'What about?'

'I have a little job for you.'

'…Me?'

'You _are_ the one I'm asking.'

'Why?'

'Don't worry, I'll be paying you.'

'Paying me?'

'…Of course. What would you like? Name it, and it shall be done, princess.'

'I guess… A doll?'

'A doll. How cute.'

'…'

'A doll it shall be. And the better a job you do, the prettier the doll.'

'…I'll do my best?'

'Fabulous. Here.'

'What… A masquerade outfit?'

'Yes, you'll need it to blend in. Your target will be at the Golden Masquerade Gala. '

'…Target?'

'Yeah, it's just a little joke.'

'…'

'And you'll be the last person they'll suspect.'

'Suspect?'

'I'm just playing a little prank on someone. It's to die for.'

'All right… But who am I…?'

'Prince Licht of Glanzreich. Here's a photograph. He's very charismatic. He'll be easy to find.'

'A prince? What's the… joke?'

'You're going to go to the ball, and spike his drink with something extra special.'

'I don't know what you mean by "spike."'

'…You don't need to worry about that, sweetheart.'

'He won't mind, will he?'

'How could he mind a cute little button like you? Don't _worry_ about it, he's a friend of mine.'

'I…'

'Is this about the payment? Look, I can't give you the doll now, but — '

'Can I just keep this?'

'What… The _outfit_?'

'It's pretty. Besides, it's just a favour, isn't it? A surprise for your friend? You don't have to pay me.'

'Y-yeah. Right. Well, be ready for the ball tomorrow night, Cinderella. Good evening, sir, and madam. Nice little place you've got here. Do a good job and maybe we'll give you some repeat business.'

'…Father? Who was he?'

'Darling. Listen carefully to me. You have to do exactly what he tells you to do. It's important. I cannot stress this enough. Please.'

'Ok… But it's just a favour. Isn't it? Father? Why are you crying?'

 _To be continued…_


	10. Yellow Poison III

**~ Heine ~**

This is not what I signed up for. Literally. Viktor had me sign an official contract for my bodyguard services this morning, and not even in the fine print did it say, "You may be required to dress up in a masquerader's outfit." Maybe that's because I didn't read the fine print. At least not in depth. I trust him enough for that.

I look down at the glittery suit — the one that Helene the maid found for me — and sigh. It's not as bad as the masquerade outfit that Licht gave me once as a joke, but I can't believe I'm going to wear this in public. Nor can I imagine which of the princes it used to belong to.

'Aww, Teach, you look so _cute_!'

'I resent that,' I snap, and look up.

Prince Licht descends the staircase, dressed in a white suit detailed with intricate gold embroidery and jewels. He looks like he's walked out of a fairytale. 'Heh, sorry, Heine-darling. It must be the cat ears on the mask. I was just saying goodbye to Leo — he asked me to sneak some cake back with me so I'll have to see what I can manage.' A jewel-encrusted mask partially hides his eyes, but not his smile. 'That mask is the one I gave you at your welcome party, isn't it?'

'What other earthly reason would I have for having such a thing in my possession?'

Licht taps my side. 'Are you wearing that holster under there?'

I flick his hand away. 'Don't play with guns, Prince. And tell me, why am I wearing this? Am I not merely your guard for the evening?'

'Well, you're not on the Royal Guard, and all non-personnel guests are required to masquerade. Besides…' Licht winks. 'It kind of adds to the illusion. That's the fun of the whole thing.'

We walk to the palace doors. 'What, the false delusion you're suffering under?'

'Stop sulking,' Licht chides. 'You realise that people would give their right arm to attend this event?'

The wind blows, a brisk winter gale. We climb into the gleaming carriage that awaits us outside, and settle back into the velvet seats. 'Unlike you, I'm not… a social person.'

Licht straightens his hair. Tiny jewels are woven through it, creating a path of stars that scatters light through the interior of the carriage. Glanzreich glows brightly in the darkness outside. 'I noticed, Teach.'

I check that I can draw both my knife and gun. At least I can walk and move. I imagine it could be worse. 'Prince Licht — '

'Don't worry. You don't have to give me a pep talk.' Licht lowers his mask. 'I'll behave and ask how high if you say jump, and all the rest of it.'

'How _responsible_ of you.' Licht rolls his eyes. Responsible, deep down, despite his playboy persona. 'Still, thank you. You won't be making my life difficult, in one aspect at least.'

Licht raises his mask again. 'So patronising. Hey, aren't you going to wear your mask?'

'It won't fit over my glasses. And I'd rather not. The cat-ears are a little juvenile, may I add — '

'Ah, but it's a masquerade! You have to! Can't you just leave your glasses off?'

'I'd prefer to be able to see if someone attacks you, Prince.'

'Hmm…' Licht takes the mask from the top of my head, and pulls off my glasses.

I grit my teeth. 'Careful with them.' My eyesight is particularly poor, so I dislike having my spectacles off for any length of time.

Licht weaves the mask's ties around the glasses' handles, securely fastening the two together. 'Voila! Masquerade glasses! I should have Bruno patent this for me…'

I carefully slide them on. My field of vision is reduced by a fraction, but I can still see clearly. If anything, I can focus better, with the blurry edges outside of my glasses blacked out by the mask. 'Nicely done. Thank you.'

Licht leans back and waves a hand. 'Good-looking, creative — is there no end to my talents?'

'Physical attractiveness isn't a talent.'

'No, but I have it, so I'm the complete package. Either way the ladies just can't get enough.'

 _Spare me_. I glance out the window. 'Where is this… thing being held?'

'Golden Masquerade Gala. I know, it's a tongue-twister.' Licht laughs. 'I think Brunie even called it the Silver Masked Garland at one point. It's hosted at Count Karlsburg's mansion. And before you ask, it's been held annually for over fifteen years: so it's not an elaborately constructed ruse to have me assassinated.'

'And why would…' I rephrase my words. 'I don't believe that you're a target for assassination as a fifth prince.'

'Learn to recognise a joke when you hear one. But I thought the whole point of you coming with me was to deal with that kind of drama.'

'Yes, but a full-blown assassination? The most I can expect is an intoxicated guest harassing you.'

Licht shrugs, and looks out the window. 'Ah, there we go.'

I look out the carriage window. My adrenaline spikes.

'Prince… What is this?'

'The better question would be — what part of "the biggest event of the year" didn't you understand?'

My heart beats double-time. I'd think I'd prefer to run a gauntlet. Blindfolded.

The Karlsburgs' mansion rises before us, dominating this part of Wienner, surrounded by a massive circular driveway framed by burning torches and flooded with a steady procession of carriages and landaus. In the firelight, the house looks as though it's made of gold. The windows shimmer, and colours sparkle behind the glass. I feel like I've fallen into a book of fairytales.

And I have to keep track of Prince Licht in this glittering labyrinth. This is going to be a nightmare.

Licht gives me a pitying look. 'You need to get out more, Teach.'

I snap out my daze. 'And why would a commoner such as myself be frequenting high-society events such as these?'

'You use a lot of words when you're annoyed, Teach.' Licht cuts off my retort with a flick of his fingers. 'Technically, royal events might be a touch larger than this but I think that the Gala actually holds more acclaim.'

 _In other words, I would be doomed either way._ I cross my arms, fix my gaze on my boots, and tap the tip of one against the floor. _Well. If I had to perform, and socialise, then I may as well concede defeat now. But that's not what I'm here for — I'm here because I have a job to do. Very well, then. Let the games begin._

 _To be continued…_


	11. Yellow Poison IV

**~ Estiella ~**

A delicate purse hangs from my wrist, and a mask frames my face.

It's all so pretty. I've never seen anything like this before.

Chandeliers as large as pianos float overhead. The marble floors shimmer underfoot. Above me, all around, people mingle, dressed in clothes that look as though they've been pulled out of engravings and into the real world. I feel like I've fallen into a book of fairytales. … _And I don't belong here._

'Careful, darling!'

I blink, and look back. A group of girls — with full figures and tiny waists — cluster behind me, their silk gowns sweeping the floor. 'Don't stop in the doorway, you'll get trampled!'

'O-Oh, right…' People brush past us on every side, ascending the steps and streaming into the mansion.

One of the girls, with heavy blonde curls cascading in a ponytail over her daringly bare shoulders, asks, 'Are your parents here, sweetie?'

I fumble in my purse. 'My parents couldn't come…' I take out my invitation, with its perfect gold seal. 'They were sick… But they said they wanted me to go and have fun.'

…I don't like lying. It tastes bitter.

'Oh, isn't she a little darling — I just want to snuggle-wuggle her!' one of the girls squeals, and hugs me, squashing me into the bodice of her dress.

'Ooh, Prince Lichie should be here soon. I can't wait to see what he thinks of my dress!'

…Prince Lichie?

The girls burst into ecstatic squealing. 'Perhaps he'll lure us into the garden for a rendezvous!'

I don't understand what they're talking about. At all. I start to squirm, and the girl lets me go. 'Oh, look, there's the royal carriage!' she exclaims. 'Ah, and we have to get our dance cards! Hurry!'

The girls race off into the crowds. 'Take care — bye bye, cutie-darling!'

I tentatively wave in farewell, then turn and look down the steps. A burnished gold carriage approaches, and everyone it passes turns to look, or exclaim. So that's the royal carriage? Meaning… that's Prince Licht arriving?

I grasp my purse tightly, and square my shoulders, poised in the doorway to this new, different world.

I guess… I better go in.

The air feels cold tonight. Or maybe that's just me.

 _To be continued…_


	12. Yellow Poison V

**~ Heine ~**

I adjust my mask. Shadows dance through the carriage. Shouts and whistles scatter on the breeze.

There are at least a hundred people on the driveway and staircase alone.

What I wouldn't give to be able to tie Licht and I together so I can keep track of him. Licht winks. Our carriage doors are opened for us. 'Into the breach, eh, Heine?'

'Please try to keep your wits about you, Prince.'

'Do I ever not?'

And we step out of the carriage.

The air feels ten degrees hotter. A storm of noise rumbles in the charged air. I adjust my mask again, and follow Licht up the mansion's grand entrance. Nobles, aristocrats, citizens of Glanzreich and possibly even other countries, ascend the stairs in a steady stream, decked in an array of fabrics and colours.

I closely follow Prince Licht from behind. Even merely staying within range of him will be difficult, given that it looks like there's easily hundreds of people, and also, my height won't help. People are already bumping into me and stepping on the backs of my shoes.

We step onto the landing. My eyes widen. The inside of the mansion glows, through the massive open doors and Fonseinian windows that line the ground floor's walls. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I'm already weighing up the chances of them giving way and falling into the crowds. Guards, presumably belonging to the Karlsburgs' themselves, line the entrance in two rows of gleaming gold and black. It looks like a gate to another world. Upon seeing Prince Licht, the guards bow deeply and the movement follows us as we walk into the mansion.

'Prince Licht!' An older man walks up, carrying a cane carved out of ivory and topped with gold. I wonder if it could be a sword cane, but no, it isn't. A delicate-looking lady and a younger girl — with honey-brown hair in gigantic corkscrew curls — accompany him. Likely his wife and daughter, respectively. 'Thank you for gracing our little gathering once again.'

 _Little gathering?_ 'Oh, not at all, Count Karlsburg.' Licht says, raising his voice above the background noise. Even with his mask, his waist-length blond hair instantly marks him as the "playboy prince" of Glanzreich. 'You outdo yourself every year. The decorations, the guests — especially the girls.'

Licht looks over at Count Karlsburg's daughter, and she flushes, winding a curl around her finger. She looks around ten or eleven. Old enough to be temperamental, but not old enough to have a beau. 'Do you have a dance card yet, Mariella?' Licht asks. 'Because I'd love to put my name on it.' Judging by her parent's approving looks, it seems like they may be hoping for a future match. It's not too far-fetched, with Licht only being the fifth prince. Still, I wouldn't let my daughter marry him.

Mariella looks positively incandescent. She holds out her dance card and Licht dashes off a signature, before the Karlsburgs leave us to greet the next important guest.

Licht works the room, talking up the girls, laughing with the boys, charming the adults, and winding everyone around his fingers. I stand in his shadow, taking in the room. I'm not expecting to recognise anyone, but I want to weigh up the room and start mentally mapping the layout of the house anyway. It seems guards from many of the noble families of Glanzreich are in attendance. We ourselves were accompanied by a pair of guards from the Royal Guard, as a precaution. They would have followed us into the building and taken places on the edge of the room, with the other guards of different families that are present.

'Who's this little darling?' I look up to see a girl in a blue velvet dress and piled black hair at Prince Licht's side, waving a dance card in the air to dry the ink. Or to show off Prince Licht's signature. _I'm not a little darling, Fräulein._

Licht is quick to deflect. 'A friend of mine! See you on the dance floor, love!' The crowds push us together, and I hold onto him to steady myself. He glances back and down, and gives me a grin. 'Still alive?'

'Just. You seem to be filling up your card with no problem, Highness.'

Licht laughs, and quickly hides it behind his hand. 'Sorry, Heine, I shouldn't laugh, but…' He breaks off and gives me an unimpressed look. 'You're pulling my leg, aren't you?'

'I'm glad you're paying attention.' At dances, only the women have dance cards. Their partners put their names down for the first dance, the second, and so on, then go to find the girl when that dance actually comes around. 'I am curious, however… How do you keep track?'

'I have a brilliant memory when it comes to girls! And I have a set pattern: open with the host's daughter or wife, then treat yourself with a pretty one, then an older one, then a cute one, and then one who's desperate because they adore you for it, and then a — '

I hold up a hand. 'I understand, thank you. While I remember, should I ask if you and Count Karlsburg's daughter are an item?'

Licht lowers his mask, and whispers, 'No. It's just social politics. She's cute, but I usually prefer girls a little bustier than that.'

I grimace. If I didn't know that his playboy reputation was a facade — to an extent — I'd be even more disgusted. 'I am truly sorry that I asked. Bear in mind that you could be overheard, Prince.'

'Not a chance.' He is probably correct. Hundreds of voices all talking at once crash against each other to make a sea of noise. Despite the atmosphere, I can't help but feel that this is the calm before the storm.

Licht eyes me, then glances around. 'I wonder if there's someone that I could — '

I hold up a hand. 'No. I am here in a professional capacity only.'

'It's not as though you're not dressed the part… And besides, what better way to be able to keep track of me than being on the dance floor yourself?'

'You are obnoxiously persistent, Highness, I'll give you that much.'

Licht pulls a face, and motions for me to follow him again. 'Gee. I'm touched.'

I'm waylaid by a servant, but I decline the glass of champagne he offers. I need to keep my head clear. 'Besides, my height complicates situations such as these.'

Licht takes a sip of cordial, and shrugs. 'You could wear heels.'

'They don't suit me. Nor make a substantial difference. Regardless, I'm perfectly capable of keeping track of you and coming to your aid no matter how we're positioned.'

'Fabulous,' Licht mutters, and tosses back the last of his drink. 'I'll sing out if I'm accosted by an inebriated guest.'

This area opens out into a staggeringly large ballroom, decorated with enough greenery and flowers to populate a summer greenhouse. The air shimmers, as though poured through with powdered diamonds. Stringed instruments sing under the touch of their players — with enough musicians in attendance to make a small orchestra. The chatter fades to a quiet murmur.

Count Karlsburg gives an opening speech for the evening. 'The dancing's about to start,' Licht whispers. 'I'll see you on the flip side, Teach.'

 _Really, how long can dancing go for?_ To a wave of applause, Karlsburg steps off the stage, and couples sweep onto the dance floor, with Prince Licht at the centre of the crowd and of everyone's attention.

I may be here a while. Younger couples seem to be the majority of the group, with parents and older adults playing the roles of wallflowers at the room's edges. I track Prince Licht with my eyes. His jewel-spattered white suit and blonde hair make him hard to miss. Still, with the sheer quantity of people here, standing on the side isn't the best position. Several people move and block my view, proving my point.

 _Hmph._ I look around, and spot a staircase that leads to an overlooking balcony area above. _More preferable._ And I'm more than capable of leaping from the balcony to Licht's rescue, if need be. I slip up the staircase, passing a few over excited girls on my way up. I realise that they're a group of Licht's female 'friends,' and I'm grateful for the mask that shields my face as we pass each other by. The last thing I need is to be accosted and held up while Prince Licht gets himself into trouble.

Someone pauses on the steps above me. I move to let them pass. A dainty pair of jewelled slippers. Strike that, they're small. Child-sized.

 _Goodness._ She looks as though she's stepped out of a picture book. She's only a little taller than Princess Adele, and between her raven-black hair and hints of midnight blue eyes beneath a mask, I can't help but stare. She suddenly starts, and curtsies, as though she's forgotten her manners. She twists her purse in her hands. She's very young to be at an event like this. Before I can put her at ease, however, she slips past me and descends the steps. My body involuntarily turns, to watch her go.

My nerves tingle. _She's just a little girl… so why do I feel so uneasy?_ I ascend the stairs and step onto the landing. I of all people should know not to judge by appearances. Even so, meeting the princes reminded me that people aren't always what they seem. Is she merely a striking young beauty, or… could my intuition by playing up? I sigh. At any rate, now I'm in a position to spectate and see for myself.

The balcony area is bathed in shadows and flickering candlelight from the chandeliers. A few people are up here. A few gentlemen. One or two younger girls watching the dancing. I have my suspicions, but watching one of men talking confirms it. With a gesture, his jacket shifts, revealing a shoulder holster. Personal guards like myself, if they're that unconcerned about their weapons being seen.

I step forward to the balcony rail and lean against it. Prince Licht passes below, with a different girl on his arm. Someone else is already at the railing, and I muster the effort to greet him. 'Good eve…'

'Well.' Metal trickles down my spine, locking my joints into place. He turns; the candlelight reveals his features and plays over a half mask. He smiles, and lowers his viewing glasses. 'If it isn't Herr Wittgenstein. A pleasure, sir.'

It's Count Rosenberg. Prince Eins's high steward. And despite his sugared greeting, I can tell he's less than pleased to be sharing the same air as me. And the feeling is mutual.

'Count Rosenberg. What a surprise.'

We exchange nods, and turn back to look over the balcony.

'I imagine you're here to accompany Prince Licht, then?'

Wonderful. He wants to talk.

'His Highness took a fancy to the idea.' I don't want to tip Count Rosenberg off to our internal problems at the palace. However… I do wonder if he has anything to do with Leonhard's abduction. It's not as though he hasn't had a hand in stirring up trouble in the past. But ever since Prince Eins's return to Glanzreich… Rosenberg has eased off on his attacks against the princes. I wonder what caused that to change.

Rosenberg holds out his viewing glasses. 'Would you care to borrow these? I imagine you came up here to get a better vantage point.'

 _Khh —_ I force back my irritation, and accept the offer. 'Thank you.'

If I'd known how massive this event was going to be, I would have asked one of the princes if they had a pair that I could borrow. I know Rosenberg is watching me carefully, so I can't use them for long — otherwise he might realise that I actually am here as Prince Licht's guard.

I scan the room. Prince Licht, with yet another girl on his arm; the Karlsburgs; that mysterious little girl, and Licht's lady friends. …Wait a moment. Is that…? I lower the glasses, and hand them back. 'I would have thought you would be too busy with your work to frequent events such as these.'

Rosenberg sighs, and leans over the balcony rail. 'Unfortunately, I'm here in an official capacity to accompany Prince Eins —' likely the truth, as he does seem to follow Prince Eins whithersoever he goes ' — if I were here for pleasure, I wouldn't have relegated myself to the balcony.'

'His Highness is in attendance?' Then the figure that caught my eye _was_ Prince Eins. I'm surprised to see him dancing, but I suppose as next in line — for now — he'll have to choose a wife eventually.

'Prince Licht is star of the show at these events, of course,' Rosenberg says. He twirls the viewing glasses in his hand. 'But as Prince Eins conducts his household separately to the palace, so sometimes we attend the same events as well. '

'I see.'

It seems I'm going to be stuck up here with this fiend for the foreseeable future. I'd almost rather be cornered by a cockroach, not that there's much difference.

'I _am_ curious, Professor…'

I grit my teeth. Those four words typically spell trouble for me at the palace, and other places are no exception. Rosenberg pauses, then finally says, 'Why are you here?'

'…Would you care to elaborate?'

Rosenberg doesn't bother to look at me, instead he watches the tableau below through his viewing glasses. 'Come now. A few select commoners are allowed to attend —' a dig at my lack of rank, ' — but regardless, I find it hard to believe that you're here for pleasure.'

'As I already told you, Prince Licht requested that I accompany him on a whim.'

'Ah… But frankly, you don't look as though you're enjoying yourself. I imagine you could have escaped if you really wanted to, given your talents,' he says, toying with me. 'There's another reason for your presence, isn't there?'

I think I would get into a touch of difficulty if I pushed him over the railing.

…I don't have a good excuse handy to give him, and retaliating is going to be risky, precisely because he has a rank and I do not. I tread carefully. 'Count Rosenberg. You're overstepping yourself.'

'I agree.'

We both jump, and turn to the staircase. The gentleman standing there removes his mask.

Rosenberg steps away from me. 'Prince Eins, my lord.'

The eldest prince of Glanzreich. The deep shadows bring out his striking looks — striking, like his brothers and father, but in a darker, maturer way. He looks much older than Viktor, with a solid frame and black hair that falls around a chiselled, cool expression.

We've met before, yet only in passing. At the council meeting, where I was nominated to return to my post as the royal tutor, after having briefly left due to… difficult circumstances. At Weisburg Palace, where deigned to grace us with his presence after coming home from a trip overseas. As he only recently returned to Glanzreich — only this week — I imagine that this the first appearance he's made in society since.

'Your Highness,' I say, and bow.

Eins walks up with a heavy, loose gait, and stands beside us at the railing. And to think that Viktor's stature triggers my height complex. Eins literally overshadows me. The prince watches me keenly, and says, 'It seems you found the time between grading papers to leave the palace. Which of my brothers coerced you into accompanying them?'

Scarily sharp, his edge not blunted in the slightest since the last time we crossed paths. 'Prince Licht, Your Highness.'

Eins nods, and cuts a stern look over my head, at Rosenberg. 'I apologise for my steward. I step away for one minute and he starts harassing you.'

'My lord, we were merely having a dialogue. Rest assured, if I were to actually question someone to a specific end, I would be to the point.'

Curiouser and curiouser. Eins is disciplining Rosenberg for his behaviour. I decide to test the waters. 'How is interrogating me as to the reason for my presence here, "merely having a dialogue"?'

Eins sighs and the sound grates on the air. 'Ernst…'

Rosenberg looks irritated. 'My lord, I'm afraid my words have been exaggerated to my disadvantage.'

'No doubt through a fault of your own. I don't know why I bring you to these things. Rectify your behaviour before the next one, if you would. Dismissed.'

Rosenberg folds his viewing glasses. Keeps his shoulders relaxed. 'As you wish, my lord.' He heads for the stairs and slips away with a feline grace.

Prince Eins takes a silver tobacco pipe from his jacket. He lights it. 'The trouble with having competent people around you is that they do their work too well.'

I feel a chill. Regardless of Eins and Rosenberg's relationship — Eins is dangerous in his own right.

Eins draws on the pipe and exhales. Smoke wreathes around our heads. 'I'll make a calculated guess, but I won't attempt to pry it out of you. Are you accompanying Prince Licht as his personal guard?'

My heart skips a beat. He's hit home, so too much deflection will get me no where. '…Why would you make such an assumption?'

Eins rests his pipe against his open palm. 'Given yesterday's events, I thought it was a logical guess.'

Yesterday. Prince Leonhard's abduction. If my exchange with Rosenberg had gone on for much longer, I would have tried to question him as to whether he and Eins were involved in any way, but…

Eins laughs. 'You think I was involved, don't you?'

For the first time, I understand why Leonhard thinks jumping out a window is a good solution to a difficulty. Eins already knows I suspect him of having a hand in the princes' past misfortunes — and now he's guessed that I'm thinking he arranged to have his brother murdered. My blood freezes in my veins.

Eins looks out over the swirl of colour below. 'Don't worry yourself, Herr Wittgenstein. As the crown prince, I hope that I would never become desperate enough to resort to treachery and backstabbing to take the throne.' He exhales smoke. 'If my younger brothers ever mature enough to become my rivals, I will handle the situation accordingly, with integrity. But I doubt that they'll put off their childish airs for some time yet.'

'That is truly… excellent, Your Highness.' I should be relieved — at dodging the horrific faux pas and at his words — but I'm still very much on edge. In the past, Count Rosenberg alone was enough to nearly derail all the princes. Despite Eins's claims, what more havoc could the crown prince himself wreak?

As Eins has guessed my cards, I'll risk asking something. 'Forgive my rudeness, but given my position as the princes' guard, I have a question. How did you know about Leonhard's incident yesterday?'

If Eins was in any doubt about my role in this, I've committed myself to it now. 'I have no small amount of royal guards at my disposal. When cavalry forces were ordered to assemble near my estate as a matter of urgency, my unit of guards accompanied them. I was truly devastated to learn what had happened.' He voices the sentiment with all the emotion of a telegraph machine.

'In that case I owe you my thanks.'

'Oh? You were there?' Eins gives me an appraising look. 'So you're a guard for all four of them, not just Licht.' Again, scarily sharp.

'It's nothing I'm not capable of handling.'

'Are you omnipresent, then? What will you do when you can't protect them all at once?'

But unlike Rosenberg, Eins has a crown and a kingdom to back up his words. He's merciless.

'…I will do whatever is required, as Prince Leonhard's still being alive will testify. No matter who it may be, anyone who interferes with my charges…' I adjust my glasses. '…will have to deal with me first.'

Eins laughs darkly. 'I can see why you have Count Rosenberg's interest piqued.' Then he leans down and tilts my head up with his pipe. The metal smoulders against my cheek. 'A pretty speech. But save your breath. Trust my word — I'm the _least_ of your problems, Royal Tutor.'

I refuse to lower my gaze, and he finally lets me go. 'Very well. I look forward to seeing your progress with my brothers, Herr Wittgenstein,' he says, and extinguishes his pipe. 'Perhaps we'll run into each other at another one of these gatherings. Until then, adieu. I've kept you long enough.'

I bow, and Prince Eins leaves and descends the staircase.

I lean against the railing. I feel as though I've been physically guarding against an attack. His Highness Prince Eins is rather… intense. Which makes it all the harder to get a bearing on him. It seems as though the prince isn't connected to yesterday's events, but it's not as though I can trust him, either. But that leaves another question. If Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg supposedly aren't behind this state of affairs…

…Then who is?

 _To be continued…_


	13. Yellow Poison VI

**~ Licht ~**

No one ever truly behaves like themselves. Everyone has a multitude of facets, and the light only ever catches one or two at once. While I may be the youngest child; an 'irresponsible playboy,' and a calculating schemer — tonight I can go that little bit further. Shine that little brighter, and push myself a little farther, powered by only adrenaline and the insane pressure to live up to demand.

I've been on my feet for an hour, but I know I can easily go all the night, dancing to the music, changing partners as fast as the pages of sheet music turn. I grasp hand of my partner, and spin her into a daring dive as the music drops and blurs into a piece set between dances. 'Let's do this again sometime, angel,' I say, and kiss the back of her hand, before handing her off to her next partner. I feel sorry for him. He's got a hard act to follow.

I'm parched. Refreshments aren't until later, but a glass of water or something of the sort can't hurt. I've been talking all evening and even my voice can't hold out without maintenance. I slip into the fringes of the room, and take a glass of cordial from a waiter.

'Lichie!' I glance over my shoulder, and Rosa — one of my favourite lady friends — runs up, blonde curls bouncing. 'Don't keep me waiting!'

'Rosa, darling!' I say, and wind one of her curls around my finger. 'Forgive me, but I can't very well whisper in your ear with a hoarse voice, can I?'

Rosa blushes. 'Fine, I'll go re-touch my makeup. Don't let Corrina or Anne make off with you before I get back — I had to fight tooth and nail to dance with you first.'

Rosa whisks off, and I barely take a sip before she reappears. That cat-fight must have been fierce to warrant such haste. To be fair, I _am_ a terrific prize. Rosa steps to my side, and suddenly trips. I slam my glass down and catch her. How scandalous. I wink, and say, 'Are you all right, dove?'

She blushes. 'Y-yes, thank you.'

I spin her upright, and pick up my glass again. 'Let's see if I can actually drain this. New shoes?'

She frowns. 'No, actually. I bought a new dress and purse, but I bought the shoes a while ago.'

'And you look terrific. I can't wait to get a closer look… on the dance floor.'

' _Kyaaah_!' she squeals, and sighs. 'And now I have to go fix my dress after that tumble. Wait for me!'

She races off again. I smile, shaking my head. In someways, Rosa reminds me of Adele. _What?_ _You're not meant to like girls because they look like your sister, you fool — you're meant to like them for their face, or their figure._ I set my empty glass aside. Being the life of the party, working with Herr Felix at Cafe Mitter Meyer — it's moments like these that I actually feel like I'm alive, like I'm where I belong.

 _So you don't belong at the palace?_ Huh? Where did that come from? My mind's wandering. I'm getting a little stiff, too… I chuckle. Seems if I stop dancing for even a moment, my system starts shutting down. Strange. I shouldn't be getting tired this early. I shift from one foot to the other.

I stop. Something's not right. My feet feel as though they're weighed down with lead.

Strike that. I can't feel them at all.

Rosa walks up. 'Lichie? Is something wrong?'

'I-I…' I look around. _Heine, where are you?_

It looks like this is going to cause a scene.

'…I'm afraid something's come up.' This isn't fatigue. _I think I've been poisoned._

And I crash to the floor.

 _To be continued…_


	14. Yellow Poison VII

**~ Heine ~**

I leap over the balcony. The screams of the two girls who stood beside me ring in my ears. Already, my thoughts are running wild. _I was right there._ Despite being cross-interrogated by Rosenberg and Prince Eins, I had my eyes on Licht for virtually the whole exchange. I was right _there_ —

And yet he collapsed right before my eyes. I land feet-first beside him and the shock snaps through my legs. 'Prince Licht!' I grasp him by the shoulders and force him upright. ' _Prince_!'

His eyes flicker. He manages a weak smile. 'I-I'm fine, Heine!' _Liar._ Between Licht's collapse and my leap from the balcony, a crowd surrounds us.

The musicians stop mid-song. One violinist halts with a particularly ugly screech.

'Prince Licht!' Count Karlsburg himself approaches, blaring orders at top volume. 'That's enough, give him some room, make some space!' A few swings of his cane, and the spectators retreat a little way. Like pack animals waiting to go in for the kill.

'Perhaps he's drunk?' one girl speculates. I grit my teeth. _He's underage._ _One moment you were dancing with him, and the next minute you're slandering him._ I've got no patience for this.

'I'm fine, truly,' Prince Licht says, in response to Karlsburg's queries. 'I-I just need some air. Heine?'

Without a word, I help him to his feet and escort him from the room, leaving silence behind us. Despite the cold feel in the air, some people look stricken, and one of Licht's girlfriends looks genuinely distraught. I part the curtains of a balcony set off the ballroom, but before stepping outside, Licht turns and waves. 'Please, don't stop on my account. I'll be back in a moment, so don't strike me off your dance cards, girls!'

Laughter breaks the silence, and we slip through. The curtains fall shut behind us.

Licht's knees buckle and he collapses. Arms and legs askew. 'Was that convincing?'

I drop and kneel by his side. 'What happened? Quick, tell me.'

Licht presses his trembling hands against his thighs. 'I-I think I was… poisoned.' He looks up at me. His smile trembles too, like his fingers. 'Looks like we got our full-blown assassination after all, huh?'

His smile breaks. He takes off his mask. 'I can't fake it any longer — I'm scared out of my mind.'

I grip his shoulders. 'Rest assured, I'm not letting you die on me that easily, Prince.'

I yank off his tie and unbutton his collar. 'I saw you get a drink a few minutes ago. What was it?'

'Cordial.'

'Already poured?'

'Yeah.'

I take his pulse. It's slow. I rest a hand against his forehead. 'Physical symptoms?'

'I-I can't feel my legs.'

Ice stabs through me. _Lord, help us._ 'Is it worsening?'

'It started at my feet, but now — ' Licht presses a shaking hand to his knee. 'It's kind of about… here?'

 _Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't —_

It's hemlock. He could be dead in mere hours.

I feel as though I'm the one who's been poisoned. I can't move. _Don't panic._ My heart's beating out of my chest. _Don't panic._ _Now's not the time for a heart attack —_

I lightly slap myself across the face, and the stinging pain brings me back to reality. 'Okay. Prince — '

He's not looking at me. I follow his gaze.

The mysterious little girl has slipped through the curtains.

We look at each other in an awkward silence. 'Is… he going to be all right?' she asks.

Licht draws his jacket tighter. 'I'm fine, angel. Go on back to your parents.'

Wait. Puzzle pieces click into place, even though I can't see what they are.

'He's been poisoned,' I say. 'Of course he's not all right.'

The girl flinches. Licht stares at me. She starts trembling, and says, 'But I-I… I-It was a j-joke — I…'

I get up. 'A joke?' I walk towards her. 'You did this?'

'I-I — '

I physically lift her up and lock eyes with her. I feel sick. She can't be more than seven years old. 'You poisoned His Royal Highness for a _joke?_ '

My breath clouds. She dangles from my grip like a puppet. Tears stream from her mask. 'I did.'

I put her down. And handcuff her to the balcony railing. 'Sit.' She stares at me. 'I won't hurt you, but if you run away, I'll have to come and find you. Understand?' Her pale shoulders tremble, and she sinks into a pile of silk and tulle, tears silently trickling down her cheeks.

I close my eyes for a moment. As if the psychotic ex-tutor hadn't been enough, now I've got a girl to deal with that makes the little terrors of my class at the Maria Vetsera church look like little _angels_.

We're wasting time. I turn back to Prince Licht, who looks stunned. 'Please put this aside for now,' I tell him. 'We have more pressing issues.'

On second thought, I turn back and take the purse the girl holds. An invitation. A piece of paper, and a vial. I carefully uncork it. I hold it at a distance and inhale. _Hemlock._ I ram the cork back in and cough to clear my lungs. Merely breathing in the fumes can have negative effects.

I check the notch in the glass vial, then look at the paper. _This is the poison recipe_. My breath hitches. _Dear God, please…_ I pray, scanning the instructions. It's only a small dose. _Thank God. There's some hope._

I pivot back to Licht. He and the girl are watching me. 'It's hemlock. A paralysis-inducing poison. No known antidote.' Licht whitens, and the girl whimpers. 'But it seems it was only a small dose.' _But I have no idea why._

'So, what does that mean?' Licht asks. His hands are trembling in his lap.

'It means we've got a chance.' I take his hand in mine. 'But we need to go — immediately. We'll return to the palace posthaste and have the palace physician tend to you.'

'But I have obligations — '

I haul Licht to his feet and pull his arm around my shoulders. 'You can't very well fulfil them if you're dead. Come, you can apologise to any affected parties later.'

'But you don't think I'm going to die.' I help him to the balcony doors as fast as his weakening legs will permit. 'R-right?'

'I'm praying not. But we have no way of knowing for sure. Can you walk?'

Licht tries to take a step, but stumbles, and it takes all my strength to keep him on his feet. 'It's getting worse.'

With all his skill at acting, and keeping up a facade… I've never seen him look scared like this.

I part the curtains. Our soldiers are gathered outside, with worried looks on their faces. Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg watch from a distance. I address the soldiers. 'Prince Licht has been poisoned, and is unable to walk. If one of you would carry him to the carriage.'

Licht is picked up by one of the soldiers. His legs dangle uselessly. I walk over to the little girl, who sits with one wrist handcuffed above her head.

I unclip the cuffs from the balcony. 'Are your parents here?'

She shakes her head. '…I had to do this myself.'

 _Herself…?_ I set her upright, and look into her eyes. 'In that case, I'm taking you with us.'

She flinches. 'Please hear me out. As a child, this is not a good situation for you to be in. I can at least promise to keep you safe from others who may not have such a tolerant view of your situation.'

She nods limply. I handcuff her to my own wrist, place a hand on her shoulder to guide her, and pull her along like a lost, broken doll.

We quietly slip out of the ballroom, following the soldiers and Licht. We still attract attention, however. Count Karlsburg meets us at the mansion's doors. I snap my hand in a motion for the soldiers to take Prince Licht to the carriage, and I address the Count. 'I'm terribly sorry for this inconvenience, and for the disruption to your evening.'

'Nonsense. I'm just embarrassed that a filthy poisoner managed to infiltrate all our defences and attack our prince.' The little girl shrinks into my shadow. He hands me a sheaf of paper. 'I imagine you'll want the guest list for the palace's reference. I was wracking my brains for a way I could be of assistance.'

'We're much obliged. Thank you. And again, my apologies. We have to go.' I take the girl's hand and we run down the deserted steps. In the darkness and confusion, it's possible that the Count could have mistaken her for Princess Adele. Or not paid her any heed at all — like all the rest of us. Below, the soldiers help Prince Licht into the carriage. _Why didn't I consider the possibility that he may be poisoned —_

'I didn't know.' I glance down. Even though she's running, I can see her tiny shoulders shaking.

'What do you mean?'

'I didn't know.' She swipes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. 'I didn't _know_!'

She loses her footing, and trips. I lunge and catch her, scraping down the steps. One of her shoes flies off.

I pick it up, and drop to one knee. 'Here. Quick.'

She slips her foot in.

And the clock strikes midnight.

 _To be continued…_


	15. Yellow Poison VIII

**~ Heine ~**

Hemlock is an ascending poison. It begins at the feet, and slowly creeps upwards, inflicting paralysis as it spreads, until the lungs stop functioning, followed closely by the heart. There's no known antidote. Even people who survive often die of the permanent damage that results. The only chance of survival is if it was administered in a small dosage.

Suffice to say, the carriage ride was a silent one.

The palace doors open and I nearly knock over a footman in my rush to get inside. 'Master?' I look up. Bruno is on the staircase above us, dressed in a loose shirt and slacks with a pile of books in his arms. A late-night trip to the royal library, I imagine. 'You're back rather early… Did Licht manage to get himself thrown out? And who is…'

The soldier carrying Prince Licht steps through the doors. A tremendous crash. Books scatter over the steps and fall over the railing and hit the floor in a hailstorm. '— _L-Licht_!'

Bruno runs down the stairs and skids to a halt at his brother's side. 'I'm fine… Brunie.' Licht's breathing sounds ragged now: his lungs must be struggling to even take in enough air.

'What part of being carried is fine?! Dear l— '

Prince Kai appears at the end of the hall. The sight hits him like a shot to the heart and he sprints over, the word, 'Licht!' tearing from his lips.

'He's been poisoned.' The room is rendered silent. 'Prince Kai, if you would help us carry Prince Licht to his room.' The soldier passes Licht to Kai and we walk, quickly, with the little girl at my side.

Bruno explodes. 'W-What the blazes? Who would poison Licht?! He's only a child — he's _fourteen_! If anyone was going to be poisoned, i-it would be Eins! Or Kai, even! What kind of monster would do this!?'

Tiny fingernails dig into my hand. I shake my head at her. Bruno and Kai still haven't properly noticed her yet, with their attention being on Licht. When we get to Licht's chambers, servants are already lighting candles and closing the curtains. Kai sets Licht down on the bed. I cuff the girl to a coat stand, with whispered instructions to wait out of sight.

'Professor Wittgenstein!' Helene runs up to us, gasping for breath. 'Is His Highness all right? We've called for the palace physician, and — '

I untangle my mask from my glasses. 'He's been poisoned. He requires immediate attention.'

Her face whitens. 'Oh no.'

A fire smoulders in a grate nearby. 'Has that fire been going all day?'

'Wh — Yes, but why — '

I take the tongs hanging from a rack beside the fireplace, and dig through the bed of embers. 'We need charcoal. If ingested, it neutralises most poisons.' I drop chunks of glowing charcoal onto a silver tray.

Helene looks around. 'It will be far too hot… Um, uh… Ah, here.' She hands me a water pitcher.

'Thank you.' I pour water into the tray. I hammer the charcoal into smaller pieces with the tongs, to cool, and steam rises. 'I'm sorry about this.'

'We have over twenty of those trays.' Helene gives me a plate, and I pile the charcoal on to carry it over to Prince Licht. Kai and Bruno are helping to pull off his jacket and shoes. On the velvet bedcovers, he looks like piece of broken jewellery at the bottom of a jewellery box.

'Prince, this will help neutralise the poison.' I sit beside him, a piece of charcoal staining my fingers.

Licht blinks. It takes him a moment to respond. 'I'm meant to… _eat_ _it_?'

'I apologise in advance.'

Licht takes a small piece, and slips it into his mouth. He gags. 'I think I'm going to throw up.'

I wince. 'Please don't. Also, don't hold it in your mouth or it will stain your teeth black.'

Bruno squeezes Licht's shoulder. 'You can do it, Licht. It's just carbonised wood; it could be worse.'

'You're not… helping, Brunie.' Licht forces himself to eat piece after piece. 'On second thoughts, I don't think I'd be able to throw up… even if I wanted to.' His breathing is irregular. ' _…_ Ugh…' Tears spring to his eyes. 'This is the worst thing I've ever done in my life.'

 _Prince…_ 'And now it's over,' I say, as he chokes down the last piece. 'Well done.'

He sinks into the depths of the pillows, too weak to even sit upright. He toys with his blackened gloves. 'So what now? We just sit around and wait to see how far the paralysis spreads?'

Kai whitens. 'He's… paralysed?'

' _We…_ are going to keep calm and not worry.' I rest a hand on Licht's shoulder. 'We're out of harm's reach here, we know what poison was used, and even the dosage.' A knock on the door. 'And that will be the palace physician now. I have something I need to take care of, I'm afraid. I'll return shortly, Prince. Prince Kai, Prince Bruno, if you could return to your rooms.'

I head for the doorway, unlock the little girl's handcuffs, and give the poison recipe to the palace physician with a word of explanation.

The two of us disappear into the shadows. I take her to my room, stopping a maid on the way to make a request. Once I shut and lock my door behind us, I can finally breathe.

I drop to one knee and remove the little girl's handcuffs. They're really too big on her. She's only a little girl. _So how did she get involved in a poisoning plot?_

'Please have a seat,' I say, and step behind my changing screen. I shed my jewel-studded suit and exchange it for my normal clothes.

When I reappear, she's sitting on a chair, legs dangling above the ground. A knock. It's the maid, with a tea tray. 'Thank you.' She curtseys, and I re-lock the door. I set the tea tray down, and strap my holsters back on. _Ugh._ My legs are suffering from what I've been putting them through of late. The cutting of the straps isn't helping. I talk as I fasten the buckles, wincing as I pull them to their tightest notches.

'I can't stay. I'll return later, and perhaps we can talk.' When the little girl doesn't respond, I look up. Her wide eyes are fixed on me — on my weapons, to be more exact. I sigh, pull on my coat, down my tea, and open the door to leave again. 'I'll be locking the door. For your own safety, among other reasons.'

I leave her to herself, and follow the corridors back to Prince Licht's room. I step between moonlight and shadow. _What's happening?_ I don't think I've truly processed the events of the night.

 _I was right there._ The thought keeps tripping through my head. I was right there, prepared to defend Licht with my life, and yet danger came from an angle that I never considered. _Something's going on in Glanzreich…_ The words of the now-deceased Herr Graaz echo in my head. In two mere days, the entire palace has fallen into a dark nightmare. _This has to stop. Before someone else gets hurt._

I let myself into Prince Licht's room at the permission of the guards stationed outside. Soft moonlight shines in threads through the curtains. The palace physician is still there, packing up his bag.

'…Heine?'

I slip over to the prince's bed. 'It's me, Prince. Are you…'

I've never realised how pathetic that phrase is. _Are you all right?_ In what way is someone fading before my eyes all right? But what else are you meant to say?

'Are you… Feeling all right?'

Licht's hair spills over the pillow, in a tangle of silvery gold. 'The doctor… said…' He has to labour for each and every breath. '…that the paralysis is… slowing. He thinks I'll be all right… like you said.'

I carefully sit beside him. 'I'm relieved to hear it.'

'Weren't you the one who was all… "keep calm," and… "you'll be all right"?'

'That doesn't mean I was any less worried about you.' I hesitate. 'I'm sorry, that I wasn't… able to protect you. Poisoning and courtly intrigue are not… I don't think that way.'

'Don't be.' Licht manages a smile. 'And don't tell me anyone else could have… done any better. You were brilliant. Thank you.'

How sweet of him. _For once_ , I add dryly. But still. He's too young, too sheltered to understand. While he may appreciate the fact that I was there for him and still am, it doesn't compensate for the fact that he was harmed on my watch. Despite the impossibility of my doing anything to stop it.

I get off the bed. 'I'll take my leave, then. I'll get someone to — '

Licht grasps my sleeve. 'Wait.' He doesn't look at me. 'Could you stay… Teach?'

 _S_ urprise must be clearly painted on my face. '…If that is what you wish. I have some lessons I still need to prepare — but if you permit me a moment to fetch them, I can finish them here. Does that suit?'

'Y-Yeah, whatever.' Licht closes his eyes. 'Yeah.'

I slip out of the room again. What I wouldn't give just to be able to sit down, instead of running to and fro like this. I take the key for my room, strung around my neck beneath my shirt, and pause to make another request of a passing maid.

I fit the key in the lock. I was going to try and talk to the little girl before the night was out, but it seems it will have to wait. Come to think of it, where will she sleep?

As soon as I open the door, I know something's no

t right. A tall, chiselled figure stands by the window, throwing shadow over the little girl. He lunges.

I dive forward and bring up my arms to block his. He springs back, and in that moment I draw and aim my gun, shielding the girl with my other arm. 'State your intention.'

He swears. His eyes flick to the girl. I doubt that this is a chivalrous rescue. Without warning, he kicks the window open, snapping the latch, and escapes into the night. _He's fast, if not skilled. And also, the fact the window was closed means he got in from the inside._

I holster my gun. I wearily get up and close the window, knotting the latch shut with string.

'Are you all right?' I ask. The girl manages to nod. I lift her onto the couch and say, 'I think we need to talk.'

She trembles, looking down at her lap. 'I-I…'

'My name is Heine Wittgenstein.' She blinks, and looks at me. I gently remove her mask. Her eyes are a stunning deep blue. 'I am the royal tutor at the palace.'

'I'm …Estiella.'

I take her hand. 'It's a pleasure, Fräulein.'

Her eyes glitter with tears. 'H-How can you say that? I'm awful — I poisoned the Prince and everybody's going to hate me — it was supposed to be a joke but I didn't know _that_ was going to happen!'

'It's all right.' I stroke her hair. 'Prince Licht is going to be all right.'

She stands up, and takes her mask from my hand. 'It's not all right. How could they do this?' She hurls the mask on the floor and jumps on it. The shards and cracks ricochet around the room. 'How could they _do this!_ ' She pulls off her shoes, throws them to the ground, and frantically claws at her dress until the hem of the skirt is shredded to ribbons, before dropping to her knees in a puddle of torn silk.

I kneel beside her. 'Did someone ask you to poison the Prince?'

'I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WANTED ME TO POISON HIM!'

We sit in silence.

'A… A man came to my parents' apothecary. He said he had a job for me. He wanted me to play a prank on his friend, the prince, at the Gala. He told me to put something in the prince's drink. He said it would be fine. He gave me the dress, for the Gala. He was going to give me a doll, but I just asked if I could keep the dress, c-cause it was p-pretty. Then he had my parents make the thing that… I… I was starting to worry. And… If anything went wrong — I mean, my parents said I had to do what he said — '

She inhales, and looks at me, desperate. 'I didn't know it was poison. I was just trying… I-I'm so s-sorry!' She starts crying. 'I'll do anything — I'm so sorry! I'll pay the prince's doctor's bills; I'll try and get my parents to make something to make him better; I'll — '

'Little one. You truly didn't know. You were being used by someone who wanted to hurt the prince. Adults can be cruel, and they often drag children into their problems. I'm sorry you were caught up in this.' I know a lot of what I'm saying isn't going to register, so I need to simplify. 'It's not your fault.'

She blinks back tears. 'He's going to hate me.'

'I can assure you, he's not. Prince Licht has a soft spot for pretty girls.'

'I-I feel so bad — '

'We all do. We're all worried about the prince.' I take her hand. 'You want to help me do something to make this right?' She nods. 'Tomorrow you and I will go and stop this person who's out to hurt Prince Licht. I want to personally sort this out myself.'

Her eyes flash, but she hesitates. '…Can we do that? My parents couldn't stop him…'

'Who says we can't?' I stand. 'Age doesn't matter, nor does size. Or… height,' I reluctantly clarify.

'Yes. You're small for a grownup.'

I grimace. Just like with Princess Adele, her innocence worsens the blow all the more.

'It's getting very late. You should try to sleep.' A maid knocks on the door, and I take the box she gives to me. 'Thank you. Again, I apologise for the request. If you would wait a moment,' I ask, scrawling a note requesting extra guards outside my door and Licht's; a clockwork watch through the night, and a pursuit of our attacker. 'If you could give this to the guard stationed in the hall.' She curtsies and leaves.

I open the box. 'These are some of Princess Adele's old nightgowns. They may be a touch small, but…'

'I don't deserve this. I've caused so much trouble for everyone.'

'Remember — this isn't your fault. We'll get to that fairytale ending soon.' I press the box into her hands. 'I'm going to keep Prince Licht company tonight, so please feel free to change into these and sleep in my bed. You'll be safe and guarded here, as safe as the princes. I promise.'

The box lands on the bed and her hug nearly knocks me over. My eyes widen in surprise. 'You're so n-nice,' she says. 'T-Thank you.'

I cautiously pet the top of her head. 'You're very welcome. Sweet dreams.'

I gather up my papers, and slip into the night yet again.

 _To be continued…_


	16. Yellow Poison IX

**~ Heine ~**

'I apologise for keeping you waiting, Prince.' I draw up a chair and a small table to Licht's bedside.

He turns over to face me. 'Don't… worry about it. Let me guess. You had to… deal with some assailant, or other.'

I have to suppress a flinch. If only he knew. 'I was talking to our little friend,' I say, and begin writing in the firelight. 'Her parents were coerced by an unknown party into making the poison, and she was forced to administer it. It seems the family was played off against each other in a game of blackmail.'

'That's awful.' Licht traces the hand-carved sculpting on the ceiling with his eyes. 'I mean… she's too cute to be dangerous. Maybe in a few years, but still…'

I reorganise my papers. 'The whole experience has shaken her badly, as it did us.' I pause. 'At some point, it would be good if you could reassure her that you harbour no ill feelings. If you could.'

'Uh-huh.' I glance over. In the moonlight, the room looks blue. 'You know, I just remembered that I forgot to sneak back some cake for Leo. Hope he wasn't holding his breath.'

I feel a pang at his words. 'Yes. Prince, you should try to sleep.'

'I know.' Licht looks out the window. 'But I'm not really tired.'

'At least try to rest.' I uncork my inkwell. 'This may sound colloquial, but — how are you doing?'

'I'm okay, I guess. It's hard to breathe, and… I-I can't really move, either. But it's not spreading.'

'In that case… it looks like we're past the worst of it.'

'Yay.' Licht's voice sounds off-key and it prompts me to look at him again. He toys with the corner of his pillow, and his eyes look pained.

'Prince? Is something wrong?' He doesn't respond. 'Are you feeling ill?'

He covers his eyes with his hand. 'It's just… I really hate being… sick.'

 _Being sick? Oh._ '…You were often ill when you were a child, weren't you, Prince?'

'Mmm.' Licht tries to smile. 'I've gotten over it, and worked things out with my father — you know, it's one of the reasons he and I had a fight — but…' He bites his lip. 'It feels kind of depressing… I've been stuck in this room so many times. I guess it's just memories. It's stupid,' he murmurs.

I set my pen down. 'No, it isn't. Some things hurt, even though even though we tell ourselves they shouldn't.'

'I guess… I just didn't want to be alone.' Licht blushes, and plays with his hair. 'Every time I was sick, everyone tried to help, but they could only stay so long. And when you're ill, you're the one that has to go through it and get well, on your own. So, sorry for making you go out of your way, but… Nnnh. I didn't want you to… go.'

I've never seen him be so open. So unguarded. 'Don't mention it.' I flick through the papers I've graded so far. 'I was going to request someone to stay with you during the night — to monitor your condition — but it didn't occur to me that you would want company. Let alone mine.'

I take Prince Licht's hand in my spare one, and continue writing with my other. Our clasped hands rest on the silken sheets. 'Even though you might feel alone, Prince… We all care about you. And we all want to be there for you. Please believe that.'

Licht grasps my hand. 'Thanks.' His expression fades. 'I guess you won't need to take me for my shift at the cafe this week. What am I even going to tell Herr Felix?'

'That you fell ill and you'll make up your shifts at a yet to be determined date. Just be your usual charming self.'

'Yeah… I'll see if I can get away with it. That reminds me, I need to make it up to everyone I let down at the gala. Do you… have any ideas?'

'Take all the disappointed young ladies out on dates. You'll make their day.'

Licht chuckles. 'And I can write the invitations while sitting down.' He closes his eyes and within seconds, he's asleep, a smile flickering on his face.

I set my work to the side. It's not going to be comfortable, but I can sleep in this chair if I have to.

The door whispers open. I tense. Surely whoever it is would have to have been let in by the guards. Who is it?

'Heine, it's me.'

'Viktor?'

He walks into my view. He's carrying a bouquet of flowers and his expression is… unreadable. Chillingly so. 'Your guards reported the incident to me. I managed to get away to come and see the two of you.'

Fear sinks into my chest, heavy and undeniable. I know Viktor, I trust him, but… I can see the ice in his eyes as he looks at Licht's unconscious form. This isn't like last time, where Leonhard was harmed while in someone else's care.

Licht was poisoned on my watch.

I move — to get on my knees and bow, to apologise with everything in me for what I've done. But Licht's hand is still in mine, and I stop, caught between waking him and getting up.

I keep my head lowered. 'Viktor, forgive me.'

Silence. Then he crosses the room and tosses the bouquet onto the bed, kneeling at my side. 'Heine. Look at me, you insufferable thing.'

It startles me into looking at him, but he tips my face up to his with a gloved hand anyway. The moonlight catches his eyes and turns them from lead into precious stones, an alchemy of the night. 'I'm sorry. I'm angry, but not with you.' His voice drops to a whisper. 'When I heard, I just…' He looks over at Licht. He turns back to me. 'I know you, and I know you would have done everything you could.'

'He was still poisoned on my watch.'

'Not through lack of you trying.'

My legs are still throbbing from leaping off the balcony. No, not from lack of trying at all. Yet I wonder. If I hadn't been distracted by Count Rosenberg, if I hadn't been held up by Prince Eins — would I have noticed the girl poisoning Licht's drink, if all the distractions were stripped away?

With a heavy heart, I start forcing out the words, the question of whether I'll be punished for the lapse in my duty. But Viktor holds a finger to my lips. 'Save your strength,' he says, and my heart cramps. He looks at Licht again, and pain creases the corner of his eyes. 'I have the feeling you're going to need it.'

As do I.

'Viktor… It… was hemlock. Yet… it wasn't a fatal dosage.' Something tightens in my chest. 'And I don't know why.'

Viktor's eyes flick to Licht again. _Why poison a prince if not to kill him?_

But he merely looks back at me and squeezes my shoulder. 'Neither do I.' A half-smile. 'But we'll find out. You and I together.'

I nod, not trusting my voice or emotions to hold under the weight of anything else, then clear my throat. 'Things have changed,' I say. 'The girl's parents were coerced into making the poison. She's merely implicated. I'm going to accompany her to her home and sort it out personally tomorrow.' I hand him a sheaf of paper. 'Complimentary guest list on behalf of the Karlsburgs.'

'Good work. As always. I…' I follow his gaze to the bouquet lying on the bed.

'Where did you get these at this time of night?'

'I inconvenienced the palace staff, I'm afraid.' Viktor sits beside me, on the floor. Watching Licht breathe. 'I knew he would be asleep, and I can never stay long, but… at least he'll be able to wake up to these. White roses are his favourite.'

'You came before?' I ask. Viktor starts. 'You came to see him at night, when he was ill as a child?'

'…Yes, I did. I could never get away during the day, and my advisors often forbade me to see him, in case his illnesses were contagious. I didn't care. I often slipped into his room in the middle of the night.'

'You haven't changed, Viktor.'

'It's the only time I've been irritated by the competency of my own guards. I was caught once, and had to double my efforts.' His eyes rest on Licht's hand in mine. '…I know Licht was hurt because he thought I didn't care about him. But I didn't want him to feel like he had to forgive me, because I "showed up." I wasn't there for him when he was awake, when it counted.'

 _Truly a man of integrity, as always._ Viktor rests his hands on our clasped ones. 'I need to go. Would you stay with — '

'Dad?'

We both start. Licht's eyes are open and fixed on Viktor.

'I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean to wake you.'

Licht forces himself to sit up, and winces. _He can move?_ 'It's kind of late, isn't it?'

'I had to come and see you,' Viktor says, and sits at Licht's side, checking his temperature with a touch and creases on his brow. 'Are you feeling all right?'

Licht avoids his gaze, an irritated blush on his cheeks. Annoyed out of habit with his father's pampering. 'Yeah, I guess. I'll be stuck here for a while, though. There go my weekend plans — ugh, _hey_!' he protests, as Viktor smothers him in an embrace. 'You're so clingy, _ugh_! And watch my hair!'

Viktor doesn't heed him. Only holds him close, and brushes Licht's hair out of his eyes with gloved fingers. He smiles. And Licht gives in, just a little, and stops fighting him off. '…Thanks, Dad.'

'I'm sorry. I wish I could stay with you all night.'

Licht rests his forehead on Viktor's shoulder. He looks… vulnerable, with Viktor's arms around him like that. For once, he looks like the fourteen-year old that he is. But on the other hand, he looks so tired. As though he's seen too much. 'Don't be. But can you stop squashing me now? Surely you still have work…'

'Yes, I do, I'm afraid. I've got to run before Jakob tracks me down and locks me up. Sweet dreams.'

Licht chuckles. 'Goodnight.' He whispers something into Viktor's neck. 'I-I love you.'

Viktor crushes Licht's shoulders with a hug. The darkness hides his face, masks the sound of a kiss goodnight. 'I love you too.'

With a final caress, Viktor slips out of the room, promptly dodging a guard that passes by.

I pull the bouquet closer by a corner of paper.

The potent scent of roses puts us to sleep.

 _To be continued…_


	17. Yellow Poison X

**~ Heine ~**

'Please wait in the carriage, Estiella,' I say. 'The soldiers will bring you in when I'm done.'

She nods, quivering with nerves. I step out of the carriage, flex my hands, and loosen up. A quiet day in a low-key side street of Wienner. I exhale, and let everything else burn away until only concentration is left. _Let's get this over with._

I cross the street to the apothecary, feeling the weight of the holsters on my hips and the knives strapped to my arms with each stalking step. Despite it being the middle of the day, a closed sign hangs in the window. A shadowed figure moves around inside.

A drainpipe is bolted to the side of the house. _Perfect._ No one is particularly close by. I quickly climb up, and break in through a window framed with lace curtains. _This brings back memories._ Except this time I don't have to keep an eye out for Viktor so that he doesn't fall and break his neck. I slip inside.

As we worked out, this is Estiella's room — charmingly decorated with lace and shades of pink and white. The family lives on the second floor of their shop. I draw my gun, and walk out of the room. This floor is deserted, as I guessed. I stand in the shadows on the landing. An older couple are sitting behind a counter below, frozen. A younger man paces back and forth. Only one. Good.

I could draw this out, but I have little patience left for the situation. And my plan only gives me a mere few minutes to act anyway. I holster my gun. Unsheathe my knife. The man continues to pace, below. Back, forward. I climb onto the bannister and poise to spring. Back, forward.

I dive into his blind spot, and pull him down with me in a crash as I go, and when the dust settles, I have my knife at his neck.

'What the _d_ —'

'We're done here.'

The door crashes open and soldiers from the Royal Guard flood in. 'Herr Wittgenstein!'

'He's all yours.' I sheathe my knife and hand him over, and dust myself off while they put him in chains. The man looks furious, and dumb-struck, all at once. 'Incarcerate him, and send the report of his interrogation to His Majesty. And sir?' He flinches, and snarls at me. 'Do be cooperative. Or I'll have to pay you a visit.'

'What the — but you're a _child_!' he screams, and the soldiers drag him off into a jail wagon.

Well, that tears it _._ I'm going to pay him a visit this afternoon. I turn to the couple behind the counter. They look shocked, and… for what must be the first time in a while, hopeful.

The bell above the door rings. I look over my shoulder to see Estiella standing in the doorframe. '… _F-Father! Mother!_ ' She runs to them, and they stumble out from behind the counter, the three of them talking over top of one another. 'We did it! You're all right!'

Her father turns to look at me. 'I don't know who you are, but we'll never be able to thank you enough. Thank you, thank you for this, and for our daughter, and… We're sorry. Tremendously so.' He forces the next words out. 'If you wish for us to turn ourselves in, we will.'

'No,' I say, mirroring Estiella's vigorous objection. 'There may be some technical aspects to deal with, but you were merely exploited. The real culprit has been apprehended, and the prince is on the road to recovery.' I fondle the top of Estiella's head. 'You have a very brave daughter.'

'And we're hoping she never has to be so frightfully brave ever again,' her mother says.

'Indeed, and I will bid you adieu. Another day, could I inconvenience you to tell me more about the situation so that the royal family can take action on it?'

They give me their consent, and I walk out of the store, back into the fresh air. 'Herr Wittgenstein!' I look back. Estiella waves, unable to free herself from her parents' embrace. 'Thank you!'

I smile. 'You're welcome. May we meet again, under better circumstances.'

I walk down the street, back to the carriage. The air is cool on my skin. Yet another checkbox ticked.

Or so I would like to think.

Prince Leonhard abducted one day. Prince Licht poisoned the next. These kinds of coincidences only occur in novels. This has got to stop. Fast.

Because there are still two princes remaining, and someone is clearly working to a hit list.

 _End of Act 2: Yellow Poison_

 _To be continued in Interlude: Iron Resolve…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Second act down! Thoughts? If it isn't already apparent, the varying acts are actually themed to different methods of attack and to the characters' signature colours.

Also, that was how I wrote this story: 'This attack, that prince, mix and match, repeat, and... oh, actual stuff is happening now, which means a finale conclusion and... this story's about 40K words longer than I expected. Ha. Hahaha.' Writing is a messy process.

Anyway, reviews, feedback, and criticism are most welcome, and the story continues yet again...


	18. Iron Resolve I

**~ Heine ~**

' _Heine?'_

 _'_ _Nnh?'_

 _'_ _Is there anything you can't do?'_

 _'_ _Well. I can't read.'_

 _'_ _You can hardly say that anymore.'_

 _'_ _Only because you're teaching me.'_

 _'_ _True. I'm glad I can at least do something to help you, for a change.'_

 _'_ _You say that as though you don't spend your every waking minute helping_ us. _Oh, here. These are the magistrate records for the next town over. The ones you said you wanted to see?'_

 _'_ _Ah. Thank you. How did you get these? You're like Arsene Lupin… … … —kh!'_

 _'…_ _What is it?'_

 _'_ _Have you read this?'_

 _'_ _No. …I did try.'_

 _'_ _I don't want the children to hear this. Come on.'_

 _'_ _It's pouring outside. Here — under here. Well?'_

 _'_ _Heine… the orphans are being put in poorhouses. Their parents abandon them in the streets. They're dying. Listen: "One female worker, five years of age, deceased. Cause of death: hand was impaled on a sewing machine needle, and she succumbed to the resulting infection."_

 _'…'_

 _'_ _Heine! Say something!'_

 _'_ _I'm just being an adult and not flying into an uncontrolled rage, thanks. What do you want me to say? Wienner was no different, a few years ago. I picked those abandoned kids up off the streets. I've had children die under my care and I couldn't do anything to save them. And it's hardly different now. This isn't new, Viktor.'_

 _'…_ _W-We've got to do_ something _!'_

 _'_ _You can't save everyone — you'll kill yourself trying. …Don't look at me like that. I'm only being calm because I've done this dozens of times before. I still feel like I need to go and punch a wall every time.'_

 _'_ _We're going to change this. It can't be impossible to have a kingdom where everyone is safe. Where these kids can go to school. I want to fix this. No, I have to. I'll reform the entire kingdom of Glanzreich if necessary.'_

 _'_ _There you go again. You sound like you think you're the king or something. Heh. Call me foolish, but… for some reason you make me think you can do it.'_

 _'_ _And if I can do it? Will you help me, Heine? To change this?'_

 _'_ _Of course. "Your Majesty."'_

 _'_ _Hilarious. …Mm. If we find out more… You got these papers so easily. What if…'_

 _…_

I open my eyes, to a view of paper and wood.

It seems I fell asleep at my desk.

 _How did you get these? You're like Arsene Lupin… You got these papers so easily… What if…_

The clock strikes eleven. The bells toll. It feels like the sky should be grey, not the innocent winter blue that it currently is. It's been one day since Leonhard was abducted. One night since Licht was poisoned. Only this morning, I interceded on Estiella and her parents' behalf.

I gather up the papers scattered over my desk. Poison formulas. Connections. Names. Dates.

I straighten my glasses. I had it fairly easy, at least in this particular instance. I wish there was more to go on but that can't be helped. This time, my source was willing to talk without any physical persuasion.

I get to my feet. The room spins slightly. I think I'm going to need a double espresso just to get going. I try to smooth down my uniform, but pause.

To be technically accurate, Estiella's parents were willing to talk.

A stray knife lies on a pile of papers. Bullets are scattered over my desk.

…Their blackmailer, not so much.

No one can say that I'm not time-efficient.

I sweep the knife and the bullets into a drawer, and leave.

'I really shouldn't leave that sort of thing lying around my room.'

The door slams shut.

 _To be continued…_


	19. Iron Resolve II

**~ Heine ~**

I'm currently breaking multiple rules of etiquette. I was in such a hurry that I made my coffee myself down in the kitchen cellar, and on top of that, I'm drinking it while walking through the palace to Viktor's office. I'm going to try and get an audience with him — but despite my efforts, he may not be able to see me until later.

This scenario is escalating rapidly. Two of the princes have been targeted in the space of two days. This has to stop, fast.

I try to organise my head. 'See Viktor.' I open a side door. 'Check on Leonhard and Licht.' I descend the steps, and start crossing the paving stones. 'Review the princes' lessons and — '

' _Hey_ , _Heine!_ '

A short distance away, the four princes have gathered, dressed in various attire and braving the chill winds. I glance up at the palace wall. Third window up, fourth across. The curtains are drawn. It looks like both Viktor and I will have to wait,

'Greetings, Highnesses,' I say, walking over. I look Leonhard and Licht up and down. While Leonhard should be recovering by now, I'm surprised to see that Licht is up and about already.

'Why are you drinking coffee while _walking_?' Leonhard says in disgust. 'I'll acknowledge that you're a commoner — but as you're in the palace you should try to have some dignity.'

I drain the cup, and raise my eyebrows above the rim. 'Well, as we're currently not inside the palace building itself, I plead innocence.'

Leonhard flushes, and tosses his head. 'Hmph. Whatever.' It seems he's recovering well enough.

'Wowww, Leo.' Licht smirks. I notice he's the only one of the four that's seated, on the edge of a nearby fountain. 'Try keeping your mouth shut so you can't put your foot in it.'

Leonhard pivots. 'What the — _Licht!_ '

I clear my throat. 'While this is convenient — as I was planning to see each of you — what are all of you doing out here?'

'Heh.' Licht winks, and waves a hand. 'I needed some fresh air, and I ran into Kainie, who was coming out here for fencing practice. Yay!'

Bruno moves to swipe Licht across the head, but stops, and merely flicks his shoulder. 'What our dissembling brother means to say is that he doesn't have the patience to stay in bed and recover. So when he heard Kai was going to the courtyard for fencing practice, he coerced Kai into carrying him outside.'

'Same difference!' Licht protests.

'There is a great difference between walking somewhere on your own two feet and someone carrying you because you're not _well enough to walk_!' Bruno takes off his jacket and places it around Licht's shoulders. 'Good grief, you're not even dressed warmly enough.'

Licht laughs and brushes Bruno's hands away, before drawing the jacket tighter. I glance over at Kai and Leonhard. _It seems as though the events of the past few days are drawing them even closer. Despite that, I wish this string of disasters wasn't the reason behind it._

'So, you said you were looking for us, Master?' Bruno asks.

'Ah, yes.' I set my cup on the edge of the fountain, and pull out a sheaf of papers. 'I've gone over your upcoming lessons, taking… everything into account.' Leonhard fidgets, and Licht looks away. _They're not going to recover, mentally or physically, with a snap of the fingers._ I hand the two of them their lesson plans, as well as Bruno and Kai. 'In short, we'll just push back what we already had planned and aim to still get through our exams next week.'

Kai flicks through his papers. '…So we don't have lessons today?'

'No. If any of you would prefer to return to your lessons now, you may, but you don't need to start until tomorrow. And — '

'Hey, if none of us are doing anything then you should show us some of your moves, Teach!'

I blink. 'Eh? I mean, pardon me?'

Licht leans forward and grins. 'Very funny.'

'Yeah, definitely!' Leonhard says, and makes a fist. 'And if I remember right, he said he'd teach us some techniques!' He points at me. 'No backing out, Heine!'

 _My word, how I hate committing to things._ Kai hesitates, then looks at me. 'Come to think of it… hasn't Father made Teacher our bodyguard now?'

Bruno whirls around. 'And speaking of that — I have every intention of asking him to rescind the order! Master putting himself in harm's way — let alone putting his life on the line for us — is reprehensible in every aspect!'

'But he didn't order me to.' The princes look at me. 'Your father requested the matter as a favour, and repeatedly stressed the fact that I could turn him down.'

A chill wind sweeps the paving stones.

'As your teacher, my purpose is to give my life for yours. Is it not?'

Even Licht is caught off guard. 'S-Spare me such deep notions at this time of morning. So? Teach?'

I adjust my glasses. 'Very well. I won't teach you how to fight, for various reasons. But as I already acquired His Majesty's permission, I'll teach you basic self-defence. It won't do you any harm. You wish to do it now?'

Leonhard nods. 'Well, we're all here, so why not?'

I remove my hat and coat and place them in a pile beside the fountain, and it feels as though I've become a different person. The person I used to be, the one who knows how to cut and stab and walk down a dark alley and leave everything in there for dead. I flex my fingers and click the joints in my knuckles, well aware that Prince Kai — the only one of the princes who has seen me fight before in an instance unrelated to these current affairs — is watching me. Then I begin.

'The main two points of self-defence are protecting yourself, and typically escaping. It's safer to assume that most people will be stronger than you. Times will come when you're at a disadvantage. Weak. Outnumbered. Use it. It's not guns or knives that win the important fights, it's using vulnerability, your age — whatever you have to hand. And sometimes that's all you're going to have. So use it. And make it count.'

This is real. Very real. All of the princes are still children, and as such they're all vulnerable to being exploited. And as I have the build and stature of a child myself; have always had… I'm familiar with what I'm teaching them how to escape from.

'And remember,' I say, holding each of their eyes in turn. 'You need to do whatever it takes, as your opponent won't merely give up and leave you alone. Your aim is to incapacitate them by any means necessary.'

Licht winds a strand of hair around his finger, looking a little nervous. 'Any means?'

'You're not trying to kill them. However, if someone attacks you, it means that they make themselves liable to whatever harm comes to them at their victim's hands.' I raise my fingers one by one. 'If your opponent can't stand, he can't fight; if he can't see, he can't fight; if he can't _breathe_ , he can't fight.'

At their stunned expressions, I merely say, 'That's what I mean by "incapacitate."'

I'm reluctant to practice with the princes, but given my past, sparring with the palace guards would prove to be… problematic. 'Prince Bruno? I know requesting your help would be a touch unnerving after what we've been talking about, but could I ask for your assistance?'

And too late, I remember what his last altercation with violence was — when he was harassed and attacked at military academy. I step back, hands raised, saying, 'Forgive me, Prince, I failed to recall — '

'No.' He looks away, then turns back to me with his face filled with resolve. 'Forgive my interrupting, Master. I know what you mean, but as I may very well need to know this then I should take it upon myself to learn.' He steps forward with a grin. 'Besides — martial arts instruction from you yourself? A privilege!'

 _Well, that was a characteristic reaction._ 'Very well.' I glance at the others. 'To start — remember that if someone accosts you, you need to scream for help. I don't care if it's undignified. It's hard for someone to abduct you if half the street is watching, so take advantage of it. And people may even come to help you, especially if they hear screams and think a child is getting hurt.

'Typically, if someone is trying to assault you or take you somewhere, they're going to try and grab you. The key is to use their own weight and momentum against them. So _,_ Prince Bruno. Try to grab me. Don't worry, I'll restrain myself.'

'Are you certain?' Bruno asks. I nod. 'If you wish,' he says, and tentatively takes me by the wrist.

I cut him a look. 'Are you trying to take me for a walk in the gardens?' Licht bursts out laughing, but I wave him off. 'No, no, we are only practicing. But feel free to actually put effort into it. I'll be fine.'

'All right.' Bruno pulls my wrist up, and I shift my weight.

'Right.' I direct my comments to the other three. 'You need to keep your balance. When you move, you step by placing your weight on your toes, yes?' I change my footing. 'Like this. But if you're pulled on, you'll lose your balance. Step with your heels first. The same goes for your assailant — if they're unbalanced, you can trip them.'

I regain my own balance. 'So, Prince. Try to move me. Drag me, as such.'

Bruno hesitates. 'As you're asking me… All right…'

He pulls me forward. My reflexes kick in. I dart forward, following his momentum, thrusting my captured hand up in front of Bruno's face. Startled, he lets go and I spring away.

I dust off my hands. 'One of many countless techniques. Of course, if I had been serious, I would have moved faster and Bruno would have essentially ended up punching himself. Effective no matter the degree of success. As an aside, with people who wear glasses, breaking the lenses can blind and injure them, as well.'

They all flinch. 'I know. It's not pleasant. The whole affair is unpleasant, but necessary. As the adage goes, it is better to know these things and never need them than to need them and not know them.'

'A valid point.' Bruno is already taking notes, with a pencil and paper that he seems to have pulled out of thin air.

I take them out of his hands, and say, 'I'm afraid with Prince Leonhard and Prince Licht not being their best, I'll need you a while longer.' I toss the writing implements to Licht. 'Make yourself useful. And write neatly. We want to be able to read it later.'

'Gee, I get it, I get it! I — Sure.' Licht starts scrawling. _You were going to say that you write the chalk boards for the cafe and that your handwriting is excellent, thank you very much, I imagine?_

I return to the matter at hand. 'If you can get free, then run.' Leonhard's brow creases in confusion, but I merely address that with, 'Running is nothing to be ashamed of — think of it as a race that you have to win because your life depends on it,' because I don't have time to go into it in detail. 'But an interchange won't always be merely a single move. Once more if you would, Prince Bruno, but this time by the collar.'

Bruno flinches. 'Master…'

'This is merely a lesson. We aren't even covering real fighting techniques or combat. Please don't distress yourself.'

Reluctantly, Bruno grasps my collar. 'If you truly wish.'

My heart kicks. This feels uncomfortably familiar, and I fight the urge to claw my way free. 'Typically when you grab someone by the collar, the idea is to hold them still while you land a solid punch to their face. So if you're being held, block their other hand with your elbow.'

'The rest of you, observe.' Instead of following Bruno's momentum this time, I resist and step backwards. 'Get your opponent off balance.' I latch onto Bruno's hand on my collar, and raise my elbow. 'Pin their hand and block punches with the same arm.' I dart backwards and Bruno stumbles forward. 'As you move, use their arm to force them down.' I catch a glimpse of Bruno's eyes as I bring up my foot, and with a light tap, he's on his knees and I'm loose.

I hold out a hand to Bruno. 'So there you have it. And I was holding back. Are you all right, Prince?'

Bruno doesn't respond. I had my concerns about him earlier, but —

'A true genius in all fields, even martial arts! I would expect nothing less, Master!' Bruno gushes, clasping my outstretched hand.

'…Thank you. I think. Now if you would kindly get off the paving stones.'

Bruno flushes. 'Ah. Of course.'

'What next?' Leonhard asks.

 _Hmm…_ We could go in any direction from here. 'Well, getting free from your clothes is a worthwhile point.'

Licht flicks his hair over his shoulder, his unbuttoned shirt collar falling open. 'I'm good. I'm already an expert in that department.'

'Yes, I noticed. Have fun getting frostbitten. Now then…'

Kai stands up. 'I can… I mean… Can I try? Help, I mean?'

 _Prince Kai…_ I'd avoided asking him to participate. Given his recent resolution to refrain from resorting to violence after a messy kidnapping incident — not unlike the drama we're dealing with at the moment — I didn't want to put him on the spot. 'Of course, if you wish.'

I gesture for him to stand behind me. 'You're probably already familiar with this trick, as it's in a lot of novels. If someone has a hold on your coat, just simply slip out of it.' Kai grips my collar, and I slip from my coat instantly.

'Oh… Is that why you wear such oversized clothes?' Leonhard asks.

'How blunt. It's a chore to get clothes in smaller sizes. Incidentally, you can also knot your tie in certain ways that let you get free if grabbed in that way.' I walk over to Licht, and stand behind him. 'Oh — you'll be pleased to know, Prince Bruno, that Prince Licht is diligently wasting your paper by drawing inappropriate illustrations instead of taking notes.'

' _LICHT!_ '

'Teeeach!'

'That aside…' I run my fingers through Licht's hair. It's almost longer than waist-length; heavy and soft to the touch. I don't know how he has the patience to manage it every day, but it does feel nice. 'If you were to be grabbed by your hair…' I lock my fingers through Licht's golden tresses, and raise my hand. '…Swivel your head, and hit it against the person's arm.'

'Hey, careful. Surprising though it may be, I don't just wake up like this.' After a moment, Licht follows my instructions and gets free.

'If you're being held from behind…' I wait, and Kai pins my arms to my sides. I suspect he's really just cuddling me rather than attempting to restrain me, however. I pause. 'One thing. You should have the sense to know when you should act. Sometimes… You may not be able to escape.'

This does not comfort them. It wasn't meant to. 'W-what do you you mean?' Leonhard stammers.

'Don't misunderstand — often, you'll be able to get away. But you need to have good judgement. Don't run for the door if someone has a gun pressed to your head, for example.'

I try to soften my voice. 'Just wait for a good opportunity.'

Kai still has me in a hold. 'Anyway — if someone is holding you, there are many things you can do. Jerk your head back and hit the person in the face. You might break some teeth if you're lucky. If you can move your arms, drive your elbows into their stomach or ribs. And if you want to get free in a hurry, bring your heel up backwards as hard as you can. You'll get free pretty quickly.'

Kai pauses, then says, 'Would you like me to… let you go now?'

I chuckle. 'If you wish. My apologies for the, er, phrasing.'

Licht splutters with laughter behind his hand, then whistles a long note. 'No holds barred, eh?'

'But… fighting dirty?' We all turn to look at Leonhard. 'Besides, these are all just… tricks.'

I sigh. 'So you'd rather be abducted?'

Leonhard's flinches. 'N-No. No. Never. N-Not again.'

'I know.' I tap Kai's arm, and he releases me. 'Let me clarify. This is what real fighting is like.'

It's getting darker out. So little daylight in the depths of winter.

'When fighting in fencing tournaments, you have rules, proper swords, time limits, and a stage, yes?'

Leonhard comes out of his daze. 'Y-Yes? We do?'

'In a real fight, you're not fighting for a trophy. You're usually fighting to stay alive. No rules. Guns, knives, maces, spikes… You could be fighting on gravel, in the dark, in the rain, against ten people. Fighting dirty and using every trick in the book is the only are the only things that will get you out alive.'

I press a hand to my lower back… and whip out a knife. 'Reverse draw. Blade pointing to elbow. A strike to the inner thigh can sever the femoral artery and cause severe blood loss.' The blade glows, carving the air. 'If attacked, slashes to the inner part of their upper arm will destroy the muscles that let the hand make a fist, or hold a weapon.' The metal reflects in the princes' eyes.

The blade dances through the air. 'As I said, I'm not teaching you how to do this, so I won't teach you the strikes and cuts to make these attacks. But in a similar vein, if you can get behind someone, kick their Achilles tendon with your boot.'

I trace a line down my ankle with the tip of the blade, and toss the knife to my other hand. 'And if one were to end it, you would target the neck. At the least, you'll cause major bleeding. As for the face, damage to the eyes can often be fatal.'

The knife slides into its sheath with a click. 'I hope that's given you an idea of how real fighting works. It's not elegant, or showy. And it's very rarely a long, choreographed sequence. It usually starts and ends with a single strike and leaves someone bleeding out in an alley.'

It seems I've rendered them all speechless. Which is understandable. I turn away, saying, 'The assorted things you've learnt will be enough to get you out of most situations involving a single person. We're done for the day.'

 _I wish I hadn't…_ It just seemed to keep coming out. I was unable to help turning everything into a lesson, as usual. _Aim for the eyes. Pin the arms._ At least they have a full grasp of the concept of fighting. A full grasp of what I'm really like.

I sounded like a criminal. Well, that's what I am. After all.

I lock my emotions away again. They'll be able to defend themselves now. I'll just have to keep pushing myself. It's the only way I can stop them getting hurt again —

'Why'd you learn to fight like this?'

I look up. Leonhard stares at me.

'Out of necessity. I think I mentioned that to you before.' I'm starting to feel numb. I guess that's all right. I could be hurting, instead. 'Please don't think I relish it.'

I want to tell them everything. I've never felt that way before. Even just to clear the air, so they know the complete truth with all its ugly, broken pieces. But old habits are hard to break. I'm not ready to lay my soul bare yet. I don't know if I ever will be. Not yet.

I close my eyes. 'I made a promise to your father: that I would put away the person I used to be. However, he named one condition. That if you, his sons, were ever to be in danger…'

I open my eyes. The cold seeps into my skin, into the leather of my holsters.

'In that case, I am to do whatever the situation requires to get you out of it again.'

After a moment of silence, Leonhard holds out a hand. 'Then keep teaching us. Keep teaching us how to defend ourselves. Please.'

I find my words. 'If you wish. There's only one of me, after all, and I may not be able to get to you in time, every time. As we know — '

Leonhard shakes me by my shoulders. 'That's not it! Besides, if you can't do it, who else could?' My eyes widen. He loosens his grip, and blushes slightly. 'It's not because we don't think you can't protect us — we don't want to be dead weights!'

'That's right.' Licht fastens his hair back. 'You expect us to sit on our hands when things are like this?'

'Prevention is better than cure,' Bruno says. 'I'm more than willing to do my part.'

'Me too…' Kai adds. 'Lessons…'

'Besides — ' Leonhard points at me. 'You're our bodyguard, so… be dangerous! Be unsuitable! Just do it! You're the only one who can… you know?'

Some rusting chain deep inside me starts to break, the links crumbling one by one, for better or worse. _Be… dangerous? You… don't mind?_

'Very well.' My voice won't stay even. 'I will not fail you. Your Highnesses.'

The princes smile.

'Then, if you wish, I will add this as a subject in your lesson plans, and we will continue — '

'Well, hello, Royal Tutor. This sounds like fun. May I join you?'

The princes' facial expressions alter drastically.

I turn around. _Ah. Wonderful._

It's Viktor.

 _To be continued…_


	20. Iron Resolve III

**~ Heine ~**

I think I'm not the only one to react, because Viktor assumes a hurt expression. 'What's with that _face_ , Heine?'

'Forgive me, but what exactly do you mean by… join in?'

'Do I really need to clarify? What, you don't think I can do it?'

'I'm still vague on what you mean by _it_ , but no, either way, I don't.'

'That's cold — you're the one who taught me everything I know after all.'

The princes' eyes dart back and forth between us as though they're watching a fencing match.

'A valid point, but I doubt you've retained any of it by sitting behind a desk for twenty years.'

Viktor smirks. 'As though you're one to talk. Who was the one who threw himself into his teaching degree at that same time, may I ask?' He looks over my shoulder, and greets the princes. 'Hello, boys. Studying hard?'

Licht hides his notes with his hand. 'Sure, but it's kind of hard stuff to miss. Especially when you're being put in armlocks and tossed around the plaza like rag dolls.'

I glare at him. 'You wound me. I haven't even taught you those techniques yet.'

Viktor laughs. He pauses, and rests a hand on my shoulder. 'Were you going to teach them parkour?'

'Ah. No, I hadn't considered it yet.'

'Parkour?' Kai asks.

'It's a physical technique for quickly traversing heights or distances in your own power. It's not a casual thing, however. Mistakes typically end with breaking your neck or back. I could teach you, but I imagine you'll end up using it for fun and getting injured.'

Leonhard still looks confused. 'But… what exactly is it?'

'Haah… It might be better just to show you.' I look up at the roof of the palace. 'All right. I'll give you a demonstration, then we'll be done for the day.' I pull my coat and hat back on. 'Stay here, if you would, boys.'

Viktor slips his medallion inside his jacket. 'I'll come with you.'

I flinch. 'This does _not_ feel like a good idea.'

'Surely you're underestimating me.'

'You better clear me of any charges that might come up from this…'

I point upwards. A low complex offsets the palace in this area. Each window has a windowsill. Viktor nods.

I check my shoes, and Viktor does the same. 'Curse these polished dress boots,' he says.

'An added challenge, no?'

'True. All right. Let's go.'

We run, sprinting across the paving stones. _I'm glad I don't have to explain it to the princes._ Viktor and I dart from the ground, to the wall, and spring up, jumping from point to point, windowsill to windowsill, and land perfectly on the sill outside Viktor's room, gripping the window frame.

Our breath fogs the glass. _It's hard to explain something so instinctive._

The curtains fly open and we freeze. Viktor's steward, Jakob, stands on the other side of the window. He raises an eyebrow.

Viktor puts on a pleading expression. Jakob sighs, and opens the window. We pause to give the princes — who look like they nearly had a heart attack — a wave, then climb inside. Viktor merely steps down onto the plush red carpet, whereas I have to jump, given my height.

'And to think I wonder how you always slip out of my grasp, Your Majesty,' Jakob says.

'It was a _shortcut_ , Jakob.' Jakob's words bounce harmlessly off Viktor's shield of poise and smiles.

'As it seems you were in such a hurry to return to your paper work, I suppose I can forgive you.' Jakob pulls Viktor's chair out from his desk, and a flurry of paper slides off and scatters over the floor.

Viktor looks crestfallen. '…Oh. Right.'

'Should I excuse myself?' Jakob asks.

'Yes, please.'

Jakob opens the door, and bows before leaving. 'Talk quietly, and I won't have to tell you to get back to work.' The door shuts behind him.

 _They seem to be friends…_ My chest twinges. _Am I jealous?_ It's only understandable that Viktor has found his own friends, as we didn't play a big part in each other's lives for a long time. I exhale, and adjust my glasses.

Viktor sinks into his chair. 'Don't be jealous.'

I flinch. Almost no one can catch me off guard like that, and not even Viktor can read me that easily, normally. 'I-I…'

'I'm jesting, Heine. Jakob and I are close due to the nature of my work. It's hardly the same as a mutual relationship, given the difference in rank.' Viktor uncorks an ink well and picks up a fountain pen. 'When I met you, you didn't know of my title. You befriended me for _me_ , not my position. I still value that. It means you're the only person I can really trust.' Viktor gives an embarrassed laugh. 'However, I'll admit I also envy you, too. You get to spend all day with my sons and daughter.'

I sit on the edge of the desk. 'Envy is a sin.'

Viktor rests his head in his hand, and smiles wearily. 'I'm aware.'

An elaborate grandfather clock ticks steadily in the corner of the room.

'I wanted to talk to you, Viktor.'

'I as well. We haven't had the chance.'

I pull out a sheaf of notes. 'Leonhard and Licht are recovering. Their respective assailants have been dealt with. I'd be happy… except for the fact that none of this makes any sense, and that there are still two princes remaining, not targeted as of yet.'

So many loose ends are fraying behind my eyes. 'Licht was poisoned with hemlock, yet with a nonfatal dosage. What's the point in poisoning a prince if not to kill him? And something must have set Herr Graaz off, as well. You don't spontaneously decide to assassinate a crown prince years after the supposed inciting incident.' I gather the papers and tap them on the desk.

Viktor bites the tip of his pen. 'Don't these things happen in threes?'

'There are four princes.'

'Then three sets of two. What if you and I played into it as well?'

A chill trickles down my spine. It would be too uncanny if something like that played out. I dismiss it. Needless drama of that sort would only befit a cheap mystery novel. '…Don't jinx us, Viktor.'

Viktor takes the notes out of my hands. 'I thought you didn't buy into superstition?'

'I don't, but you can't deny that there are dark forces at work here.'

Viktor coughs, and hides a laugh behind his hand. 'I'm sorry, it's not you, it's just — a bullet-point list?' He gestures to my notes. Tries and fails not to smile. 'You're such a teacher, Heine.'

I glare at him. 'That puts me in mind of Prince Licht.'

'Ouch. That didn't feel like a compliment.' Viktor's eyes dance above the pages, but as he reads, his smile fades. It's not exactly pleasant reading material. The paper crumples under his fingers.

He turns the page. A summary of the encounter with Herr Graaz. The next page. The formulas for Licht's poison. They say setting things down on paper is cathartic, but who wants a half-finished manuscript for a horror story?

'I'm sorry. I didn't do enough.'

Viktor reorders the pages and sets them aside. '…What do you mean?'

 _Don't make me spell it out._ 'Leonhard was injured, and Licht was paralysed on my watch. I wasn't good enough.'

Viktor exhales, slowly. 'I'm aware. But what do you think would have happened if I had just crossed my fingers and hoped that their guards would be enough?'

'But nothing like this has happened before — '

Viktor shakes me by the shoulders. 'Good grief, Heine, stop blaming yourself. You were called in _because_ nothing like this has happened before — you're not the cause of the problem, for goodness' sake.' He squeezes my shoulder. 'If someone could do a better job, I would have hired them instead.'

 _He's too nice. He's always been like this._ 'Then tell me. If I'm so, "amazing…"' I let the sarcasm drip, 'Then who could possibly be devious enough to get to the princes with all the king's horses, all the king's men, and _me_ , in the way?'

 _What would have prompted Viktor to take such unconventional, drastic measures?_

He half-smiles. 'Well, that would be telling. If I really knew, that is.'

'It's someone from outside, isn't it?' Viktor's neutral expression tells me I'm right. 'If it was someone in Glanzreich, you would have found a way to deal with it by now.' _Someone_ would include Prince Eins. Maybe he would be the type to resort to extremes — maybe not yet, but possibly in the future.

Viktor toys with his gloves. '…Yes. That's what I think, at least. But if it is someone from outside, it could get unpleasant very quickly. Glanzreich and its surrounding kingdoms and and nations…' he ticks them off on his fingers, 'Fonseine, Orosz, Venezia, Romano, Madri, Yapan, the Laguna Empire, the Kingdom of Kataro, and so on — they're all intrinsically connected. If we engage in something, it could bring a stain on our reputation at best and drag all other parties into it at worst. And there's no rhyme or reason to the attacks, so it complicates things.'

'Inarguably.' _The Western Continent has far too many nations…_ 'Well… I'll return to my work.' I smile bitterly. _How innocuous._ I slip off Viktor's desk, and wince at a twinge in my side. The events of the last couple of days have taken their toll, and the pain and bruises are setting in. Inconvenient. But not hindering, at least.

'Heine? Are you all right?'

I dismiss it with a wave. 'Of course. Just a little sore. Probably from jumping off that balcony.'

Viktor's eyes tighten. He crosses the room, and raises my hand by the wrist. The wrist that's bruised.

I glance at it. 'Occupational hazard, Viktor. You pride yourself on noticing that sort of thing, don't you?'

'Because you taught me to, my friend.'

I roll my eyes. I would be pushing a death sentence if this were any other king. 'How many knives am I wearing?'

'Two.'

'And he is correct, ladies and gentlemen.'

'…Take care of yourself, Heine. Try to rest — '

I scoff, quietly. 'I can wait. I've got the princes to take care of. Thankfully, I don't need rest.'

I free myself from Viktor's touch and open the door to leave. Because if I stay, he'll try to tell me that I can back out. Because he's too kind. Because he cares too much.

If what I can gather from this conversation is that the princes would be in even deeper strife without my somewhat inadequate aid, then I'm going to be in this for the long haul.

'I'm sorry, Heine. I sound like a broken record, don't I?'

I give him a grim smile. 'You do. But we're all a bit broken right now.'

I walk out. My boots feel heavy. Maybe because of the extra bullets I put in the hollow soles.

Not only do I have the whole kingdom conspiring against me; now I have to put Viktor off for long enough to even let me get to the bottom of this.

I adjust my glasses. Well, it's not like the odds have ever been in my favour before, have they?

 _To be continued…_


	21. Iron Resolve IV

**~ Heine ~**

The air feels cold on my bare neck and wrists. I remember the chill. The cell bars are icy to the touch. The first time I was here, I thought the cold was me. I felt dead. But after returning several times, I realised that it's always a perpetual, dark winter here. Glanzreich has a prison institution, of course. But as for keeping your enemies of the crown close, the dungeon beneath the palace serves that purpose.

Herr Graaz's cell is now in possession of a new occupant, huddled under a stained blanket. The echo of a whip rings in my ears.

Estiella's extortioner is a quivering bundle beneath a bench, as far away from me as he can get.

The guards — on either side of the cell I want — open the doors and let me in.

'Herr Fuches.' The misguided youth responsible for Kai's "messy kidnapping incident."

The young man sitting on the bench shifts, and draws one leg up to his chest. 'What do you want?'

'Nice to see you too.'

'And?'

'All right, yes. Have you heard anything recently?'

'To do with the princes? I've already been "interrogated," thanks. Seems there's some drama.'

'Please. I would appreciate it.'

'Nnh…' He shrugs. 'You could try some of the gang members of the group I was involved with. A few of them seem to be excited about something. Whispers on the wind.'

'Thank you. You're being released soon, aren't you?'

'Under a promise of good behaviour. I was just going to stay here — it's not like I have anywhere else to go — but after seeing some of the people that have washed in here recently… I figure I better get out while I can.'

I remain silent.

'You know who I'm talking about. I know you don't keep coming down here for the pleasure of my company.' He gestures. 'It's the bars, you know. You hear everything.'

'…Correct, almost. I have a lot of business down here, but I still wanted to check on you. …Yes, you should get out of here soon. Get one of the guards to take you on and you can stay in the barracks.'

'They won't let me join the palace guard. I know Prince Kai said I should, but he was just being kind, out of naivety, no doubt.'

'Not true. Everyone deserves second chances. Give yourself one. No one should stay behind bars when they don't have to.' I leave the cell, and the guards shut the doors behind me.

'What, do you have ties to this place?'

I walk off. _Well. I'm chained to it, you could say._

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, the research for these chapters was a doozy, to say the least. Jokes, but I did do my homework and I even practiced all the moves that Heine taught the princes myself. What can I say?I've been known to get into character. Mainly when I've been writing for so long that if someone calls me 'little one' I immediately retort, 'Don't call me little!' without even thinking about it, a lá Heine. ...Yes, I think that's was probably a heads up that I've written too much fic from his point of view. * COUGHS *

Ha ha, what can I say: We're both petite and we both wear glasses and we both have humour blunt enough to break glass. When I'm not tearing my (not red, unfortunately) hair out and wondering how to write him, he's a very easy persona to write and put on. As I should know, seeing as I've cosplayed as our favourite little tutor on many occasions. What? I like doing my research, and that includes costume designs! And I just like his adorable outfit and getting to carry around a 'riding crop,' but that's beside the point.

Informative self-explanatory drivel about myself aside, reviews, feedback, and criticism are most welcome, and the story continues in the next act...


	22. Green Blade I

The theses were larger than you would expect. Collectively, they stacked higher than the man that sat reading in the Wienner University library.

This whole affair was already shaping up to be a pain.

He turned the page, finishing the thesis he was reading. An elaborate dissertation on the effect that the construction of the Ringstrasse — the ring road at the heart of Wienner — has had on the outlying territories of Glanzreich. Well researched, well executed, well written. He supposed. What would he know about it?

Well well well. Pussy in the well.

He took a drag from the tobacco pipe in his idle hand. Talent, looks. The author truly had it all. The man leaned back in his chair, and sulked while the poison rotted his lungs. Unfair. Truly. All it meant was that one happened to be bred from decent stock.

He chuckled bitterly. 'A snap of the fingers, and the spoilt little prince gets whatever he wishes. I bet he didn't even have to lift a finger,' he muttered, rising from his chair. 'Oh well. At least I'm getting paid for this.'

The theses were to be left on a side-table, to be put away by the librarian. He did so, yet withheld a single page. He glanced it over.

And burned it, slowly, over the smoking embers of his pipe, and blew the ashes out the window.

Like a child making a wish on a dandelion.

 _To be continued…_


	23. Green Blade II

**~ Heine ~**

Unsurprisingly, upon entering the palace library, I find that Prince Bruno has beat me there. Or rather — judging by his being asleep at a desk — he was already here since last night.

Embers smoulder in a nearby fireplace. I cross over to him and touch his shoulder. 'Prince Bruno. Wake up.'

His eyes flicker, but he doesn't wake.

I pause. Then bark, 'Apprentice! To attention!'

I think it's my tone rather than the words themselves but either way, he snaps back into the land of the living.

'Master? Oh, good…' He glances out the window, 'Good morning. I think. It _is_ you, Master, isn't it?'

He touches the surface of his desk, looking around. I realise he's missing his glasses. With a double take, I realise they're on top of his head, slightly askew.

'Wait.' I disentangle the spectacles from his hair and press them into his hand. 'You should try to sleep in your bed, Prince,' I say, as he slides his glasses on. 'You'll catch a cold like this.'

A flush creeps up Bruno's neck and he throws himself onto the desk face-first. 'Forgive me, Master!' he yells. 'I'll take responsi— '

'Yes, yes.' I cut him off before he can even get underway. I haven't even had a coffee yet: I'm in no state to deal with a full-blown tirade this early in the morning. 'What have you been working on all night, pray tell?'

Bruno gives an embarrassed laugh, and gathers up his papers. 'I'm attending a gathering at Wienner University today to meet with the other lecturers and teachers, as I've recently started giving lectures myself. We will be discussing each other's work and reviewing our recent pieces, so I put a lot of effort… into…'

He trails off, and his smile fades. 'M… Master?'

At the words, "university gathering today," my expression must have dissolved into something less than favourable. I shake my head. 'No, no, that's excellent. Forgive me — as it seems to be my job to accompany you and your brothers to this type of thing, it seems likely that I will be sent along with you.'

'Oh…' Bruno looks down. 'Maybe I can cancel… They happen every month, so… And it's probably not the best timing, given everything that's happened — '

'That's not necessary. You said yourself that you put a lot of work into this, did you not? And as it seems all the arrangements have been made and it's your first time at this event, it would be in poor taste to cancel now.'

Bruno hesitates. I can see his longing under the surface. As university and academic events are run-of-the-mill for him, this must be worth the extra attention. 'As you think best, but still, I apologise for inconveniencing you.'

'Not at all. It's my job to be inconvenienced. I've got to earn my keep somehow.' I lean over his shoulder. 'You've finished your piece, then?'

Bruno passes it to me, over his shoulder. 'Yes — I planned on asking you to look at it for me, if you wouldn't mind.'

'Of course.' I adjust my glasses and start reading. Bruno tries to smooth out his clothes, tries to tame his hair. 'You shouldn't feel as though you have to run your personal work as well as your schoolwork by me, however.'

'I'm aware. But still.' Bruno leans back in his chair, and his head touches my arm. 'I'm not very… open-minded. I know I won't alway have a someone to catch me if I fall, but I still value your opinion.'

'Mm. Done.'

'Gah!' Bruno splutters. 'So quick!'

'Nn? It did feel a bit shorter than normal.' I hand his work back. 'I can't fault it. You seem to have a proper grasp of all main political and social topics covered. Textbook execution, as always, Prince.'

'…Thank you.'

'Is something the matter?'

'N-No, no. Well, it's just… is that a good thing?' Bruno riffs the corner of the thesis. 'People tell me that a lot — textbook, classic, perfect. Is that enough?' He sighs. 'I feel like it's lacking something.'

'Listen to him — sixteen years old and he's asking if perfection is enough.' Whether it's because I'm tired, or distracted, my words are coming out jaded, and loose. I rest a hand on Bruno's shoulder. 'Exactly that — you're only sixteen. Some things can only be learned by experience, and that's how you grow as a person. Give yourself a few years before trying to dredge up emotional substance that even experienced scholars struggle to find.'

'Right. Thank you.' Bruno glances up, and smiles. 'Again. As always.'

'My pleasure. Well, I'll leave you to your final preparations, and presumably meet up with you later to depart for the university.'

I bow, and exit. Bruno's already lost in his thesis again, combing over just that one more time.

I close the door, and sag against it. 'I'm tired,' I murmur. I'm used to only getting a few hours of sleep each night, and compensating by drinking coffee. But that's allowing that those are normal days. Not ones filled with blackmail and torture and assault, and all the accompanying injuries. One day of respite — yesterday — will have to suffice.

I force myself up, and head down the hall. I know blaming Bruno for being high-maintenance — in career or personality — isn't fair, but I've only got so much to give before I run dry. And I've poured a lot out in just a few days.

'Well, then — here's hoping this will be a low-key evening of academics discussing politics and drinking cocktails,' I say under my breath. 'But given the week's track record, I doubt I'll get off that easily.'

'Why are you talking to yourself?'

'Good morning, Prince Leonhard.'

Leonhard has one hand resting on the doorframe of the breakfast room. The tip of his boot scuffs the carpet. 'Um… can I… I mean…' He reddens. His hair falls in loose strands that frame his face. He points to himself. 'Could you… uh… help me with this? I'm not that… good at it.'

I blink. _Ah, the braids._ 'If you wish.' I quickly braid and fasten his hair back into some semblance of order. 'Once your hair grows out, you'll be able to wear it down again.'

He fingers the plaits. 'I kind of… like it like this, actually.'

'Then I'll have to teach you how to do it yourself. I'm not your personal hairdresser, you know.'

'Heineee!' He glances at me. 'And? So? Talking to yourself?'

I straighten my glasses and step past him. 'They say talking to one's self is the first sign of madness. Perhaps you better give me a wide berth for the time being.'

Leonhard looks unimpressed. 'I get the sense that you're making fun of me.'

I shrug, and pull out a gilded chair from the table. 'It's the truth. I'm not normally in the habit of holding discourse with myself.' _Perhaps I acquired the habit from Bruno._ Licht and Kai enter, chatting; the former holding the latter's arm, and they're taking it slow. Yet Licht is walking already. I smile a little.

Leonhard plops down beside me and says, 'How many times do I have to ask — I _demand_ an explanation.'

A maid serves me a melange from the side, and I hold up a finger to Leonhard. 'One moment.' I down it in one and set it down again with a clink. I think I'm awake now. 'Explain what, exactly?'

Leonhard throws up his hands. 'You're talking to yourself — why, for goodness' sake?'

'I thought I… Uhn. Exhaustion, I suppose.'

Leonhard blinks. 'Huh?'

'I'm carrying out bodyguard duties for you four on top of my teaching work. If it won't inconvenience you to ignore my having a breakdown, then if you would be so kind?'

Maids remove cloches from our plates and the glinting silver distracts us for a moment.

I take a serviette, and pick up my cutlery.

'B-But, why don't you just have a break?'

I give Leonhard a skeptical look. 'You want me to have a break while I'm on duty guarding you, then?'

'Wha — no!' he protests. He fingers the tablecloth. 'But…'

I sigh. 'Both my jobs are full-time work. It can't be helped.' I take a bite of toast. 'This should all be over soon, anyway.'

The real storm has to break eventually.

'What do you mean… over soon?' Leonhard asks, giving me a confused, wary look. _Has he drawn the conclusion that the attacks on him and Licht are connected yet, or has he just been living in his own little bubble?_

I touch the serviette to my lips. 'Just a feeling.'

'I hope you're right,' Leonhard says, staring at the table. He blushes slightly, looks away. 'And I… hope you don't have a breakdown, I guess.' He straightens and thrusts his fork in my face. 'I order you not to, as your prince!'

'What the hey, Leonie?' Licht says, through a mouthful of toast. Kai looks curious, but says nothing.

Leonhard tosses his head. 'Hmph!'

Licht laughs, Leonhard retorts, and Kai frets, before exploding, and Licht and Leonhard both shut up. The three of them fall into conversation.

I refrain commenting on how normal this feels. Because that would shatter any illusion of normalcy we have left. I reach to push my chair back, as I need to fetch my bag before we depart. 'Please excuse — '

The doors slam open and Bruno bursts in with pocket watch in hand. 'Oh dear l—' another panicked glance at the timepiece, ' — _agh_!' He's clad in more formal attire, I note, as he streaks past me — a green velvet jacket accented with gold, and his normally tousled hair is combed into a neater style.

He flings himself down in his chair with a crash, nearly sliding right off the velvet and taking Licht down with him.

Licht yelps, and hangs onto the back of his chair for dear life. 'Brunie, pop a _pill_!'

'A-Ah, sorry — oh _d__ I'm running late…' Bruno pauses, torn between maintaining some semblance of composure and getting through his breakfast as fast as humanly possible. His sense of urgency wins out and he begins cleaning off his plate at breakneck speed.

I glance at the clock, before trying to plaster a pleasant expression over my scepticism. Yes, he is cutting it a touch fine. 'What have you been doing all this time, pray tell?'

'Reheafing mm sp — ' Bruno breaks off, realises he was speaking with his mouth full, and his complexion flames scarlet. 'A-Ah, forgive — '

'For once, I agree with Prince Licht — "pop a pill," so to speak, Prince.'

Bruno throws down his cutlery and pushes his chair back in the same instant. 'Please, forgive this horrendous display, Master — I was caught up rehearsing my speech and gathering notes, and I had to get ready and — '

Licht pushes his chair back. 'Okay, okay, Professor Smarty-Pants, we get it! Well, where's your stuff — that's the carriage on the driveway.'

I glance at my pocket watch.'We don't have to leave for another — '

But Licht's prompting has already sent Bruno into a spin. 'A-Ah — in my room!'

Licht propels Bruno out the door at top speed. 'Then come on, move it!'

'Good luck, dearest brother Bruno!' Leonhard calls after them.

The door slams shut in their wake and their voices echo down the hall.

'Goodness,' I say, heading for the door myself. 'Was that drama really necessary?'

Kai pulls his jacket more securely over his shoulder. 'If you have nothing to do, you can get nervous… Licht was trying to keep his mind off things, I think…'

'That's true.' Perhaps it was actually the events of this week that didn't permit Bruno to prepare his thesis with his usual care. I back out the door, and bow. 'Have a nice day, Prince Leonhard, Prince Kai.' I pause. I don't want to say it, but I should. 'Stay safe.' They nod. I leave.

I stop by my room, and take my satchel from the bed. Inconspicuous enough — paper, pencils, personal effects. The dangerous stuff is strapped around my waist and arms, beneath my coat. I take a moment to change one of my holsters, then leave my room and descend the stairs to the palace doors, and step outside.

The winter sky is a pale crystal blue. Cold winds sweep over stone. A pain twinges in my side, and I touch my ribs. _Always in the cold weather._ I climb inside the carriage. Shoes crack on marble, and I glance back to see Bruno and Licht running down the palace steps.

'…still ten minutes!' Bruno says, and thrusts his pocket watch at Licht. 'Why are you rushing me?!'

Licht's voice echoes to me in breathless laughs. 'You hardly ever get worked up… so I got caught up in your momentum!'

They come to a stop beside the open carriage doors, heaving for breath.

'Whew!' Licht looks out over the searing blue skyline of Glanzreich. 'What a workout.'

'One I didn't want,' Bruno grumbles. He tries to fix his hair. 'I wanted to look respectable, at the _least_.'

'Here.'

Licht straightens Bruno's collar, and quickly tames his hair. Bruno blinks. 'Your cameo pin is crooked,' Licht jokes. 'Did you even look in the mirror?'

Licht's fingers slow, and rest on Bruno's chest, gripping the lapels of his jacket.

The carriage doors frame the silent display.

'Well, you better do a good job,' Licht says, and pats Bruno's shoulder with a smile. 'If I'm going to have such a brainiac brother, I at least want to be able to brag about him.'

Bruno's shoulders rise, then he exhales. Smiles. 'I'll see what I can do. Acclaim in the newspaper article on the event, how does that sound?'

'That's nothing new — headlines, Bruno. Headlines.' Licht shakes his head and laughs. 'Make an effort.'

Bruno climbs into the carriage. The door closes, and Licht leans against it. 'Keep an eye on him, Heine.' He smiles — a carefree smile, like his father. But the mask isn't as perfect as Viktor's. 'Bring him back in once piece.'

'Depends on whether I can put him together after all the visiting professors from other universities pull him apart. I imagine everyone will want a piece of him.'

Licht grins, and steps back. Smiling with a genuine, canines-bared grin this time. 'You got it.'

I knock on the ceiling of the carriage, and we start moving.

Bruno breathes a ragged sigh. 'Haah.' He glances at his pocket watch. 'We're running early after all. Curse you, Licht…'

'He was merely trying to help, no?'

'Rather more like trying to drive me up the wall.' Bruno glances down, and touches the cameo pin at his throat. 'I rarely fall off the rails, so no doubt he couldn't resist the chance to get under my collar.'

'Yes. It was a disturbing sight, to be sure,' I say dryly.

Bruno flushes scarlet. 'I'm dreadfully sorry — '

I wave a hand. 'It's no matter. Still. Aren't these affairs rather commonplace for you?'

'So to speak.' Bruno leans back in his seat, his usual calm manner restored. 'I give lectures from time to time, but this one of the first times I've attended an event for the lecturers and professors themselves.'

'Ah, I see. Yet academics are often in the audience for your lectures, no?'

'It's a different matter when they make up the majority of the audience. Akin to running a gauntlet.' Bruno manages a stiff, awkwardly charming smile. 'And… my age, too.'

He is only sixteen, after all. 'You seem to have done well for yourself regardless.'

'Mm. I'm confident in my skill, but I'm not even eighteen yet: so my work is usually under scrutiny.' Bruno looks out the window. 'I had to apply especially — given my age — when I first started attending the university, and also when I started lecturing.'

'You couldn't merely draw the prince card?'

Bruno shakes his head. 'I could, but then I would barely be tolerated at best. I wanted to actually be able to hold my own. So I submitted the prior theses that I'd written, and I was let in for my ability, not my rank, which I'm glad about.'

It's easy to forget — given how holding royalty status generally distinguishes you in any circle — but the amount of work he's put into his studies is tremendous. I would know. I ploughed down a similar path myself at his age, more or less.

A glitter of light stings my eye. I shake my head to clear it. This isn't the first time it's happened on the carriage ride, either. I glance around, and my eyes land on Bruno's cameo pin. Light falls through the cracks between buildings and scatters on the polished glass.

It takes a moment for the recognition to hit.

Bruno tilts his head. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, nothing.'

Bruno absently touches the pin. His fingernails catch on the exquisitely worked gold. The small, blurred portrait within still carries an essence of beauty, even hidden beneath the faceted glass.

Viktor's wife was reputed to have been very beautiful, it is said.

'Ah, we're here.'

The carriage rolls off the Ringstrasse and down the entrance to the university. Despite our being early — and I imagine Bruno's idea of early is even earlier than mine — the driveway is already crowded with carriages and individuals ascending the steps to the university's doors.

'Well, are you ready?'

'Of course.' Bruno smoothes down his trousers, and straightens his glasses.

'Nervous?'

Bruno blinks, then half-smiles. 'Well, naturally.'

The carriage stops and the suspension sinks. I make to get up, but pause. I stretch my arms over my head. My coat falls open, revealing the shoulder holster hidden underneath.

Bruno's eyes widen.

I flex my fingers, and lower my arms to my sides. I shift. Then I pull my coat aside to adjust the knife holsters strapped to my back, and fix Bruno with my gaze. 'Well, you needn't be. On one front at least. Just focus on your work.'

Bruno manages a weak laugh. 'A-As you wish?' The carriage door opens; Bruno steps out. I follow.

I don't care if I have to take a round from a gatling gun.

I'll get Bruno through this without a scratch or so help me I'll die trying.

 _To be continued…_


	24. Green Blade III

**~ Bruno ~**

Glanzreich University glows white in the morning sun, already bustling with activity. _Am I nervous?_ I grimace, and adjust my glasses once more. Yes, of course. It doesn't matter how skilled or talented you are — there's still the overwhelming pressure not to figuratively and literally trip up in front of your colleagues and superiors.

I turn to Heine and motion to the steps with my free hand, my briefcase in the other. 'Shall we?'

Heine pulls his satchel strap over his shoulder. He's wearing his teacher's uniform, and his large, feline eyes look over the building with mild interest. 'Quite.'

One wouldn't even guess that he has a small armoury hidden under that coat of his. If he's even nervous at all, he's doing an even better job of hiding it than I am.

I walk up the steps, through the groups of students arriving for their classes, past young teachers hastily comparing class schedules, and past visiting professors followed by valets carrying an enormous amount of luggage.

One scholar carries an oversized telescope, and I have to duck before my head is taken off. Despite the nerves, I feel right at home. All of us are here to learn, and to improve ourselves. We're all on the same page, and we're all being judged by our ability, not who we are. If only that were the case all the time. _Although, as a prince, you're probably the exception to that rule._

I don't have time for that kind of thinking today. 'Where exactly are we heading?' Heine asks. I look down, and notice he's gripping the edge of my jacket. I suppose he doesn't want to risk losing me in the crowd.

'The Karl Baedeker Room. Well, I say room, but it's more like a hall. The rooms in the university are named after famous professors or scholars.'

'Karl Baedeker was a publisher, correct?' We make our way down the crowded hall, through the babble of chatter. This one opens out into windowed gantry walkways above the courtyard in the centre of the university below.

'Yes, correct. Apparently he donated a collection of guidebooks to the university library.'

Our progress is slow, as I'm frequently stopped by university lecturers, professors, and students, who want to tell me how much they enjoy my lectures — which I have to admit, makes me feel happier than it really should.

'It seems you're becoming quite well known here?'

I finger the edge of my glasses, embarrassed, yet happy nonetheless. 'It's no small news when a prince attends one's university. I think everyone heard about it and the word just kept spreading.'

A steady stream of people flows in and out of a set of open double doors ahead. Heine releases my jacket. 'That reminds me,' I say. 'Will you… I mean, are you… How to say…'

Heine pushes up his glasses. 'I'm merely here as your teacher, out of interest.' He lowers my voice. 'We can't very well pretend that you have a younger brother whom no one has heard about — and we were to go down that route, I'd hardly have worn my uniform.'

'Y-Yes, quite right.'

We slip through the clustered groups of people outside. The lights in the Karl Baedeker Room are a dimmed gold hue, honeyed in the semi-darkness. A small landing leads to rows and rows of seats that drop drastically, before sweeping out into a stage. It feels similar to an opera theatre — likely to achieve the same effect of acoustics.

Heine leans against the railing at the landing. 'I didn't realise that this would be such a big ordeal,' he muses.

Most of the seats are already full, and two assistants are wheeling a blackboard out onto the stage. I can see several shadowed figures — notes in hand — standing in the wings. 'We have the majority of the academic staff, and professors and teachers from all through Glanzreich, not to mention visiting academics and students from other kingdoms.'

'It seems that women in attendance are rather a rarity, no?'

I follow his gaze. A young woman with piled blonde hair — framed on either side by men in dark suits and rather dwarfed in comparison — is seated with her back to us. 'That's the Duchess of Fonseine, if I remember correctly. An avid scholar. I've met her on occasion. The work she's done in introducing the concept of feminism is tremendous.'

'And those would be her bodyguards?'

'Quite likely.'

I point out a few more noble scholars that I'm acquainted with, and a few professors I've worked with whom I know on sight. Heine nods. 'Anyone that I should be aware of, in particular?'

'…No? I…' He's essentially asking if I have enemies. 'I don't think so?'

The air behind us stills, and we turn around.

Eins steps through the doors. I nearly drop my briefcase.

'Other than him,' Heine says. His deadpan tone snaps me out of my shock. Conversation carries on all round us, yet the people Eins passes often pause, startled by his intense aura.

He finally notices us. I have the feeling that he saw us the moment he entered the room, so really, it's that he finally decides to pay attention to us. 'Ah. Little brother.'

'Lord brother,' I say, and bow. Heine does the same. 'Forgive me, but…' I quickly change tack. 'What a surprise. I didn't know you frequented these events.' While Eins was a gifted student as a child, he was so consistent that he never had to go to any tremendous effort such as I did in his studies. He was regarded as a candidate for the throne, not a scholar.

Eins snorts, not missing my verbal faux pas for an instant. 'Calm yourself. I'm not here to crash your little party. I had arrangements to meet with several visiting academics from other nations, and this was a convenient meeting point for all concerned.'

'I see. In that case, I wish you the best.'

He looks at me. 'I'm sure I'll still have time to watch your presentation, however.' A shaft of dread runs me through. Eins laughs softly. 'Yes, I imagine you're not wishing me your best now, are you?' I'm breathing too quickly. I force my shoulders to stay relaxed. 'I heard you were speaking today,' he says. 'I'm surprised. They're already letting you lecture?'

I fight the urge to adjust my glasses, to do something with my hands. 'Yes. I've been lecturing for some time now. The university invited me as a guest speaker for the academics conference today.'

'Is that so.' Eins ignores me, and turns to Heine. 'How is Licht doing?'

'Well, Your Highness. He's recovering quickly.'

'I'm pleased to hear it.' Eins glances at his pocket watch, then takes a silver pipe from his pocket. 'Well, I'll be back.' He smiles, with no pretence at being pleasant. 'I have several meetings to get through, and smoking in closed rooms is frowned upon, I believe.'

He touches my arm as he passes, and I wince. 'Have fun, little brother.'

He leaves the room. Already lighting his pipe as he walks.

My hands are shaking. Truly, and I can't stop it. I shouldn't be so bothered, so why do I feel like I need to scream? _I'm not… I'm not doing this for fun!_ I bite back the pain, and it cuts my cheek and draws blood.

Heine extends a hand. 'Prince, don't let him — '

I need to get out. I need to get out. I feel sick — the room's spinning.

'Prince — '

I turn and bolt, fleeing from the room.

'Prince!'

 _To be continued…_


	25. Green Blade IV

**~ Heine ~**

I regret raising my voice. A quick glance reveals that no one heard my call. I grit my teeth, and chase after Bruno. _This is exactly_ _the kind of situation I wanted to avoid._ A flash of green, and the prince disappears around a corner. As I walk, I'm already picking apart what happened. _So Eins has never graced Bruno with his presence at the university before, I take it._ It's hard to get through the crowds, and my height isn't helping. _I can imagine that Bruno was already feeling pressured, given recent events. And Eins isn't a caring, supportive figure in Bruno's life, to say the least. They're rivals. If Bruno disappoints his expectations, Eins will have no qualms about cutting him down in front of everyone, merely for wasting his time._ And… I've lost Bruno.

I pause, and stop a passing librarian. 'Excuse me, could I ask where the washroom is?'

She turns and balances a stack of books as she points. 'Turn left, turn right, three doors down.'

'Thank you.'

I pad down the deserted hallway, and open the correct door. Marble tiles; gold-plated basins, and fresh flowers. No cutting corners, even in the washrooms.

One door of the eight or so is closed. 'Prince Bruno? Are you — '

I stop. It sounds… as though he's throwing up. I back away and sit down in a nearby velvet chair. I check my pocket watch. Fifteen minutes until the opening address. Can he pull himself together by then?

The water runs, and leaves the room in silence. I need to get him together and back out there.

Then I hear it. My heart sinks. He's crying. Quietly. Pained, and stifled; if I wasn't listening carefully, I'd never notice. I put my watch away and stand outside the door. 'Prince?'

'Y-Yes?' He clears his throat. 'Yes?' He must be standing just on the other side.

'Are you all right?'

'I-I'm fine, I just need a minute.'

I press a hand to the door. 'You don't need to let him get under your skin, Highness. He's just trying to agitate you — '

' _I know_!'

I snatch my hand away.

'I-I'm sorry. I know. I… It was so obvious, but I ran off like a child anyway.'

I sit. I lean against the door.

'He… Eins knows I'm aiming for the throne. He's the reason I — the reason we're _all_ vying to be worthy for the candidates for the crown, the reason that we have to try so hard. And he knows it. He…

'It was the last thing I expected today. It wasn't him, but I… I don't…' He clears his throat. 'I was unprepared. I was already distracted and I couldn't manage the situation properly. I fell apart.'

I shift, my shoulder pressing against the gold-embellished wood.

His voice comes through the door as a whisper. 'I… I pride myself on my knowledge, and knowing what to say. I analyse. I see so many repercussions for every single thing I could say or do. But I can never get it right when it counts. I ruin the simplest things, things that I _know._ And then I see in retrospect exactly what I should have done the moment the words leave my mouth. It's torture.'

I can barely make out the last sentence. 'I wish I was stupid, sometimes.'

 _Don't we all?_

I draw one knee up, and get to my feet. 'Can you come out?'

After a moment, the door creaks open. He looks anywhere but me, avoids my gaze. I know the feeling — when you've been crying, and you're begging the universe to stop staring.

I rest my hands on his arms, because I can't reach high enough to put my hands on his shoulders. 'Believe it or not, Prince, but the world does not revolve around your brother.' Bruno looks shocked, that I'd voice something so discourteous aloud. I smirk. 'Despite what he may believe. This is about you, and what you can do, yes?'

Bruno fingers the handles of his glasses. 'I know…' He trails off, and recognition flickers. 'I suppose he wanted to see if I was going to obsess over his opinion. And I did, too…'

'It's a natural reflex to care about what others think. We value approval, and we like to be praised. But you came to your conclusion on your own without my even having to tell you.' I lower my voice, as though I don't want him to hear. 'But besides, if he was my brother, I wouldn't exactly be overjoyed to have gatecrashing my event.'

Bruno's eyebrows lift. He laughs. Quickly covers it with a cough, hiding it with a gloved hand.

I lower my voice again, to a whisper. 'But jesting aside. I don't think this is really all about your brother. You haven't been yourself, and I can understand why.'

He just watched his younger brothers be taken out like painted targets shot full of arrows.

And he can only carry so much on his shoulders before tripping and falling headlong.

Memories trickle in, of recounted accidents at military academy, of the times that Bruno was attacked and harassed by other students. Despite the somewhat dissimilar natures of the past and our current situation, I didn't even consider that his previous trauma could be compounding his current stress.

Beneath his sleeves, I can feel a faint quivering. The prince's voice drops to match mine. 'Do… you think I'm in danger?' His shoulders rise, and fall, as though admitting it to himself was a medicine he had to take.

My arms slip around his waist, holding him steady. So he knows he's not alone. 'No, I don't.' I tap my chest. 'Because you have me.'

Something of his usual glow returns to his eyes — a warm glitter that sparkles behind his glasses. I let him go, and turn away. 'Come on — wash up, then we need to go. It's only a few minutes until the opening speech.'

'A-Ah, yes!'

I take Bruno's briefcase, and he tugs off his gloves and glasses and splashes water on his face. 'I'm sorry that you had to — ' His knees buckle slightly. 'Oh… I ran off, didn't I…'

'Yes, it was horribly inconsiderate of you and I nearly had a heart attack. Don't do it again.'

Before he can have a complete breakdown, I pass him a hand towel. 'A jest. But in all seriousness, please don't do it again.'

'I swear on my honour as your apprentice.'

I ignore that, but it does do the job of reassuring me that he's regaining his usual composure.

I wait for him to glove his hands and put his glasses on. I pass his briefcase back. His hair is a touch askew, so I step onto a chair — heedless of leaving bootprints — and straighten him up.

I hesitate. He blinks. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, I… I was just thinking about what you said before.' For once, I didn't immediately have an answer. And for once, I don't really know what to say. But I decide to say it regardless. 'It… can be painful to see everything you should have done or done differently. And frustrating. Yet if we live in the past or future, then we miss the present. Yet if we live in the present, we can't keep track of all the influencing factors of the future and past.'

A weary smile touches his expression. 'Then what are we meant to do?'

I tip his head up to mine. 'We're human, Prince. We make mistakes no matter how hard we try. No matter how we try to bend time to our will. The past is for learning from, and the present is for living in. You'll miss a lot of joy in your life if you spend all your time striving for perfection.' In his shadow, I can see traces of the boy that he never had a chance to be. 'But I think you know that already.'

His expression softens. Pained, but a little lighter. A little less weighed down.

Satisfied that we've sorted all of that out, I look him over. He still looks a touch unsteady on his feet, I notice. I rest my hands on his shoulders and ask, 'Are you sure you're going to be all right to go on?'

'Pardon? Oh, yes. Sorry.' He toys with his hair, and smiles, shyly. 'Of course. I merely let my emotions get the best of me, I'm afraid.'

I jump down and open the door. 'It's just that you were throwing up a minute ago.'

He flushes scarlet. 'Do we really need to discuss that?'

I shrug. We return to the Karl Baedeker Room. 'The last thing we need is more theatrics onstage, is all I'm saying.'

The last few guests are filing in the doors. Despite Bruno's preference of being early, being one of the last to enter will play to our favour, for once, as it better suits his rank. The guards open the doors wider for us.

'Do I look all right?' Bruno asks.

Elegant, sophisticated and completely composed. He hides the nerves well. 'Yes, as always.'

'I actually feel a touch dizzy, but as long as it doesn't show — '

Loud voices roll down the hall, and startle us into stopping and looking over our shoulders.

'Walk faster, Doctor!'

'Well, for once, Smerdyakov, I'm not to blame —as surprising as that is.' They round the corner and come into view. 'We can't very well help the whole train running late!'

'Isn't that — ?'

They catch sight of us. 'Ah, Bruno! Good to see you!'

Bruno smiles, and steps past me. 'Doctor Dmitri!'

I guessed right. It's Doctor Dmitri of Orosz, and his assistant, Smerdyakov. An odd couple, to be sure. Dr. Dmitri has windblown silver hair, crooked glasses, and apparently is rather easygoing — with Bruno's summary of meeting him being that he tended to throw politics out the window and address the prince without his title. On the other hand, Smerdyakov looks like a pillar beside the Doctor's small frame. You would almost mistake him to be the professor's bodyguard.

Dr. Dmitri claps Bruno on the back and nearly knocks him over. 'It's been a while, Bruno!' His sharp eyes note the reams of paper in Bruno's bag, and he grins. 'So I heard right — you _are_ going to be speaking.' He laughs, not trying to keep his good humour within the bounds of manners or reasonable volume. 'Good thing, too, as I came all this way to hear you again!'

Bruno looks flustered, but happy, at the same time. The result is rather charming. 'Y-You didn't, surely…'

'Well, partly. Apparently the good people here enjoyed listening to me prattle on last time the last time I spoke at the university, so they invited me back. Can't imagine why.' He glances at his empty hands. 'Hmm?'

Smerdyakov passes him a briefcase.

'Ah, excellent. Thought I'd left it on the boat for a minute. Phew. And it left port for Fonseine an hour ago, if I remember right.' Bruno pales, and Dr. Dmitri laughs uproariously at his expression. 'Eh, it's not like I ever use my notes anyway!' He throws an arm around Bruno and drags him through the open doors. 'Come on, son — any more fashionably late and we'll hold up the show.'

Smerdyakov and I glance at each other, then follow. We seem to be on the same page. 'Must be interesting, living with him.'

Smerdyakov grunts. 'Hard to believe that such a genius can behave like such a _дурак_.'

' _довольно_.'

He raises an eyebrow, and descends the steps into the muted roar of the auditorium.

I roll my shoulders and exhale a quick breath. The pleasantries are over. If someone's going to make an attempt on Bruno's life, this is the window of opportunity.

The show starts now.

The lights gradually dim with each step I take. My eyes flicker, scanning, non-stop. Entrance at the rear. Access from the wings. One or two hundred people, give or take. Guards outside the main entrance, supplied by Glanzreich's Royal Guard for the event. I catch up to Bruno. If there's a threat, it's more likely to come from within than without.

Bruno and I take our seats. The best rows of the auditorium have been reserved for royal scholars and distinguished guests. Our seats are beside the Duchess of Fonseine — or rather, next to her bodyguards.

Suddenly, she leans past her guard. Blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders. She's chewing a pencil — the fastest way to die of lead poisoning and outrageous for royal, but I gather that this girl is used to doing the outrageous. 'I could be mistaken — let's blame the dramatic lighting — but, Prince Bruno?'

'Duchess Arra.' Bruno takes her offered hand. 'I don't believe we've formally met.'

'A pleasure,' she says. 'I was in the audience for one of your lectures a while back. "Glanzreich as a Modern Nation?" A standing ovation. I was impressed.'

'And I happened to overhear one of your women's seminars. A new setup, I understand? I liked what I heard. I just wish it hadn't been relegated to the library.'

'You're very kind. And we're not formally recognised by the university yet, but one day.' She clenches a fist. 'Yes — we might be stuck in the library for now — but eventually we'll make it to the Council and then there will be no stopping us!'

'I have no doubt. Glanzreich had a female monarch at one point, after all. I certainly can't deny history, nor Maria Theresa's influence.'

Arra sits back in her hair, and a swathe of paper half hides her face. 'And I can't deny that I hold some doubts as to how feminism will fare overall in Glanzreich. It largely depends on the next-in-line to the throne, one would believe.'

Her tone is perfectly pleasant, conversational even. Only when the danger has passed, does her lip lift ever so slightly, in the barest hint of distaste. Only because I personally know Eins, do I know to look for such a reaction.

She tilts her head and smiles. 'Would you introduce me to your friend?' she asks.

'Of course.' Bruno sits back and gestures to me. 'Duchess Arra of Fonseine, Heine Wittgenstein, the Royal Tutor.'

'Oh, how charming. I imagine you're acquainted with the princess then, Professor — my nephew's fiancee.'

Adele's fiancee… Prince Claude of Fonseine, I believe. 'Yes, I am.'

'Make sure you give her an unbiased education. If anyone is going to say anything sensible on behalf of this kingdom, it's going to be her.'

'What about me?' Bruno protests.

Arra sighs and flicks her pencil at him. 'You're a _man_ — you can _support_ women's rights but you can't expect to speak about them and have any impact!'

The lights dim to their darkest shade, and Arra buttons her lips with a delightfully wicked smile, as though she's been caught whispering too loudly during an opera.

I lean over to Bruno. 'Don't you need to be down in the wings?'

He shakes his head. 'No. As all the speakers are also guests, so you only need to take your place one session before your own.'

Applause ripples through the room in waves, and I settle back into my seat. The director of the institution takes the platform for the opening address. I won't be able to relax — as I have to stay alert during the day's proceedings — but as an educator myself, my interest is slightly piqued. I slip paper and pencil out of my bag for taking notes.

Once the director has kicked things off, the event gets underway. Scholars and professors give their presentations one after the other, and it seems as though the more well-known ones are given the first slots. What surprises me is that each presentation is quite short. As there are so many guests today, I imagine they had to put time constraints in place.

When not criticising the crown prince of the kingdom, it seems that Duchess Arra sees perfectly fit to react however she wants. Nodding enthusiastically at what she approves of, grimacing at what she doesn't; one scholar trips and sends his papers flying all the way across the stage, and she disguises a very unladylike guffaw as a delicate cough. They should have charged admission for her alone.

After a round of applause for the latest, Bruno quietly slips out of his chair, briefcase in hand. 'Well, I'll be off.'

'I'll accompany you to the wings,' I say under my breath. Bruno nods.

Duchess Arra's sharp eyes follow us, not missing a beat. I glance over my shoulder. Nothing suspicious. Eins has taken his place in the shadows, on the landing. Other than that, no unusual movement. We slip into the wings during the brief handover to the next session.

'Haah.' Bruno leans against the wall, and runs a hand through his hair. The distorted dialogue of the current speaker echoes through layers of wood. 'Eins is up the back then, I take it.'

'…Yes.'

Bruno hands his briefcase to an assistant, and orders his papers. 'Well, there's nothing I can do about that.'

The papers cut a square of white against his chest. 'You know… You often can't see a thing when you're on the stage. Because of the lights.' He smiles ruefully. 'It's terrifying, because you don't know how you fared with the audience until it's over.'

'Next, Prince Bruno.'

Bruno follows the attendant to the stage, smiles over his shoulder, and disappears.

The attendant returns. 'Sir? Are you accompanying the Prince… Hello?'

He can't see me. Because I'm ten feet above his head in the cables, pulleys, and gantries that race in a tangled snarl across the ceiling and over the audience. I get my breath, then slip from the tangle of ropes I'm poised in and into the wooden framework hidden in the darkness above the audience's heads.

Bruno begins his speech. I spare a glance back at him. He seems calm, collected, and his chalk doesn't even squeak when he writes on the blackboard. A golden child in every sense of the phrase. My eyes leave him, and scan the audience at high speed. Eins lurks in a corner of the landing. It's too far for me to judge his reactions to Bruno's speech. For that matter, it seems that Count Rosenberg isn't accompanying him today. Duchess Arra nods with interest, framed by her two hulking guards. Dr. Dmitri and Smerdyakov sit watching: the former grinning with approval, and the latter paying more attention than he would probably care to admit.

'Now…' Bruno says. He's leading into the closing, from what I remember of his speech.

Surprisingly, it's actually quite comfortable up here. My eyes are still looking over the dark tableau below, but I feel almost relaxed.

'No future of any kingdom is truly certain…'

Behind Princess Arra, I notice a guest setting up his telescope. Perhaps his presentation is next.

'…and danger can come in any form.'

Come to think of it, I think the same man nearly knocked Bruno with his telescope earlier.

Wait.

I look closer. And wish I hadn't. There's no reflective glint of glass where the telescope lens should be.

'…Often what pulls us apart isn't foreign powers, but conflict within.'

The glint is coming from inside the telescope.

'So let us stand together and put aside our differences, to build a foundation for the next generations of our kingdoms.'

D_, I hate how accurately I can predict things sometimes.

Applause swells and thunders below me, like a monstrous wave crashing inland and promising total carnage, drowning out Bruno's footsteps cross the stage. O _h no no no._

I rip a knife from the holster at my back — but I can't throw it — there are hundreds of people, and I'm not so arrogant as to think that I couldn't miss.

The man below me lowers his eye to the telescope. _No — what do I do, what do I…_ The Duchess of Arra sits, completely unaware that a gunman has residence in the seat directly behind her.

The Duchess.

I rip a loudhailer off its hook and yell, 'DUCHESS ARRA!'

My voice explodes in my ears; Arra nearly jumps a foot out of her chair, and Bruno's shoes strike wood as he abruptly halts and turns to look out over the audience, whispers and panicked tones filling the hall, and Arra looks to the left, to the right, and the sniper's hand tightens, and finally she turns to come face to barrel with a loaded gun —

' _Assassin_!'

Silence like a snapped switch.

The sniper ignores her. Arra's brow creases, then her shoulders jerk —

She whirls back around. 'Bruno! _Move!_ '

But there's all the stage and not a shred of cover to be found.

The gun readies for the shot, the trigger creaks, and Arra purses her lips and snatches the barrel of the rifle —

The shot corkscrews and the blackboard on the stage shatters.

I leap from the gantry and crash-land on the gunman, two of us skidding out into the aisle as the telescope spills the rifle from its smashed innards.

' _Move!_ '

'Stop him — '

' _Duchess_!'

'The prince!'

'He's got a gun!'

' _Protect the prince!_ '

The sound comes through in stuttering fragments because all I have attention for is the fiend writhing and clawing at my face in a frenzy. I manage to sink a punch into him, and gasp, a knife grazing my vest — I only have a grip with one hand, the other guards my scratched face — I see the knife flash, below me — _No_ —

The knife judders to a halt, as does the noise and everything else.

' _нет, мои друя_.'

The frozen blade lightly pricks my skin. It probably would have pierced my lungs.

I snatch the clawing hand and slam it to the ground. Only then do I allow myself a shuddering breath. I look up.

'We seem to work well together, despite a complete lack of an introduction, Smerdyakov.'

He grunts. 'This is enough of a mess without your guts getting on the carpet.'

'Quite.'

I get off my knees and sit, my limbs and hands quivering as the adrenaline fizzes away. No matter that I'm trying to tell my body to calm down. Smerdyakov stands, and lifts the shooter with him. The man struggles. Smerdyakov mutters something in the man's ear and he wilts. That's the thing about being professionally trained.

You can make the most brutal things look like perfect accidents.

The guards escort the assailant away. Somehow, the director is managing to restore some level of calm. It seems that the show is going to go on. I sigh. Academic types. Everyone will probably say it was nice that Bruno could finish his speech before the mood was ruined.

As in, before he was shot.

I fight my way through the settling crowds, into the wings. Bruno sits in a chair, still pale, with a doctor tending to him. No shortage of those at a university conference, I suppose.

I cross the room and take his hand. 'Prince. Are you hurt?'

'No. I don't think so?' He's dusted with powdery shards of smashed blackboard; rumpled, and disheveled. But he's alive.

The doctor steps back. 'The blackboard shattered right behind him. Like shrapnel. Could have offed him right there.'

My breath catches. Not that I didn't realise that when it happened, of course, but hearing it…

I take Bruno's face in my hands. His eyes widen, and he blushes. I'm checking for any nicks or scratches. Nothing.

I sigh deeply. 'I told myself I'd get you through this without a scratch. It seems I kept my word.'

Bruno touches my wrist, my fingers still cupping his face. 'Well, at least I… finished my speech?'

I can't actually verbalise a response to that. So after a moment of speechlessness, I laugh, a deep chuckle, and I realise my hands have slipped from his face to his shoulders, to an embrace. 'I'm glad you're all right,' I whisper the words into his hair.

I hear him swallow, hear his uneven breathing. 'Me too. Thank you. Heine.' His shoulders jerk. 'A-Ah, I mean, "Master!" Forgive me!'

'No. Don't worry about it.' I let him go and dust off his jacket.

'That reminds me…' he asks. 'How did you get from the wings all the way out there in the blink of an eye?'

'Physics.'

'W-Wha… But it's not like you can fly!'

'How do you know? Perhaps I can.'

I can almost see the steam clouding around Bruno's head as his brain overheats. '…I think some mysteries are better left until later in life,' he finally concludes.

'Yes, till much later.'

Bruno frowns, and touches my cheek. A trace of blood comes away on his finger. 'How did…'

I touch my cheek, and wince. My adrenaline has cooled, giving way to the stinging pain. Faint gouge marks line my cheek. I blot the threads of blood away. 'Nothing. Don't fret about it.'

Bruno touches his gloved fingers to the cuts, soaking up the blood with his gloves. I blink. 'You should have that seen to when we get back to the palace,' he says.

My heart hurts a little, yet it doesn't feel unpleasant. 'By your word, Highness.'

'Heh.' Bruno's gaze drifts to the floor. 'Well, I guess we're going back then? We certainly can't stay, given everything that's happened.'

'On the contrary, this is the best place we can be right now.' Bruno looks up, startled. 'The room is sealed; there are guards on the exit, and apparently they're running security checks as we speak. It's far better for us to be in here while things are cleared up rather than running out into the open.'

'Really? Then… if you think it best.'

'I do. It's possible that this room has the highest security in the kingdom right now, given the presence of so many nobles and national living treasures.'

'Yet someone got in regardless.'

'Yes.'

And we don't say anything further.

'That reminds me,' Bruno says, as we walk from the wings into the auditorium, 'who was it?'

I don't answer in detail. Because I don't know those details yet. 'He's been taken into custody. He hasn't been identified yet. It's likely he stole someone's invitation and that's how he infiltrated the event.'

'I see… Wait.' Bruno panics. 'You don't have an invitation. What if they think it was you?'

I pat my breast pocket. 'Oh, I do, don't worry.'

'But… how on earth?'

'I have my ways.' I decide to tell him the truth, as needless secrecy is pointless.

'Actually, I was invited to give an address at this event as the royal tutor, quite a while ago. I declined — as I had enough on my plate even before this cloak and dagger business began.' I touch the invitation, to check it's still there. 'And besides. It was quite obvious to all involved that I was fighting the perpetrator. I was nearly stabbed, on that note.'

Bruno turns white as a sheet. 'I think I'm going to faint.'

'Please don't. Or at least wait until we're seated.'

We return to our seats. Calm has gradually been restored in our absence. I'm surprised to see that the Duchess is still in her seat — fanning herself with a sheaf of paper — although one guard has taken the seat behind her now.

'Duchess,' I say. 'Remarkably quick thinking.'

She tosses the papers into her lap. 'Oh, not at all.' She traces a pattern. 'I was… involved in an unfortunate incident, recently.' I half-listen, watching the settling crowds. 'I was petrified, and I screamed. I swore that if I ever got the chance, I wouldn't publicly embarrass myself like that again. I didn't think I would actually get that chance.'

I shrug. 'I think publicly embarrassing one's self when held at gunpoint is perfectly acceptable.'

'You speak from experience?' She leans past me and inquires as to Bruno's health, as though he'd had a dizzy spell rather than nearly been splattered across the stage.

The university director takes the podium and makes the usual overtures: formally apologising for their lack of security, extending their deepest apologies to all parties — particularly those of royal blood, _because we wouldn't want them pitching a fit now would we_ , Arra comments — and announcing the resolution to go on with the show, with the assurances that all guests are being cleared again by security. As he wraps up, a guard approaches. I waft my invitation under his sharp gaze. He doesn't press the issue.

Two students wheel a new blackboard onto the stage, and the next speaker takes his place. Shards of black are still scattered over the polished wood. I glance back over my shoulder. Eins is still present at the railing, although with a considerably larger number of guards lining the wall behind him.

He raises an eyebrow, and touches his thumb and index finger together. The "perfect" gesture. Whether he means Bruno's speech or my efforts, I don't know. I raise an eyebrow back, and turn back to the front.

But I stop. And look back again, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks.

Because Count Rosenberg is standing in the shadows at Prince Eins's side.

And at the exit doors up above, the Wienner constabulary are chaining and taking away not one gunman — but two.

 _Two?_

The lights dim. The carnival continues. And for lack of any other assassins to smash into the floor, I start writing a report of the incident for Viktor.

 _But if Count Rosenberg has been here at the university all this time, why didn't I notice him?_

I bite the tip of my pencil, my heart beating an uneasy, nervous rhythm in my chest.

 _And why two?_

 _To be continued…_


	26. Green Blade V

**~ Heine ~**

Soft candlelight, the clinking of champagne glasses — laughter and dialogue, spilling into the night sky. You would hardly believe the drama that had taken place only hours before.

Bruno swaps his briefcase to his other hand and stretches. His velvet suit cuts him out as a lean figure in the dusk. 'That was wonderful.'

'Nearly dying aside.'

He looks up at the stars. 'So blunt, Heine. Try to read the room.'

 _He called me Heine? '_ We're on the verandah, Prince.'

But yes — the atmosphere feels nice. Golden, with high spirits and friendly conversation.

'Well, should we return home?' he asks.

'Don't you want to socialise?' It would be a wasted opportunity not to, given the guest list.

'But it would be a chore for you to follow me around with all these people,' Bruno says, after a moment of hesitation.

'Compared to tailing Prince Licht, this will be child's play. Just stay out of the alcohol.'

A grimace. 'Of course.'

So I shadow him around the verandah and the driveway. I'm familiar with many of the scholars that he's conversing with. If I was here on my own, I would probably talk to them myself.

Bruno looks happier than I've seen him in a long time. I know he's been struggling to direct his focus, and choose how best to pursue the throne. But here, he's doing what he loves, and what he's good at.

He's only sixteen. And someone wanted to put a bullet in him.

The thought is enough to make me sick.

Yet unlike Licht — who's at the bottom of the line of succession — Bruno has the ability and power to make changes in the kingdom. 'No wonder he was targeted,' I murmur.

I hear footsteps approaching and I automatically check to see who it is.

'Bruno!' Dr. Dmitri flies past me and takes him in a limb-crushing embrace, startling a gasp out of the prince and nearly knocking him to the ground. 'I saw everything — you're all right? You're not hurt?'

'I can't breathe, but I'm fine,' Bruno wheezes. Smerdyakov rolls his eyes, and coughs.

'Thank God.' Dr. Dmitri lets Bruno go, and straightens his jacket. He catches a glimpse of me at Bruno's shoulder.

'Ah, you were with the prince earlier.' He extends a hand to me. His skin feels like warm paper to the touch. 'We were in such a rush that we missed you.'

'Heine. Heine Wittgenstein, the Royal Tutor.'

Dr. Dmitri rests a hand on Bruno's shoulder. 'Splendid — so you're the genius behind our Bruno's progress!' His pride is so evident that he may as well be Bruno's father.

I smile. 'No, I only recently took the post. Prince Bruno was accomplished in his own right long before I met him.' From the looks of it, my praise is enough to send Bruno streaking into the sky like a Roman candle.

'That's great. Wonderful.' Dr. Dmitri's expression turns serious. 'Well, I had something to ask the two of you, but given what happened, it's probably not the best timing.'

We both give him curious looks.

'I come to Glanzreich frequently to teach, and I actually have a townhouse here. I was going to invite you over for dinner, if it took your fancy. But…'

'We'd be delighted.' My words startle everyone.

Dr. Dmitri grins. 'Excellent. Thought you might still be a bit shell-shocked and not feel like it.'

Bruno fingers his collar, and scuffs the tip of one boot against the ground. 'What, r-really, Master?'

'Yes. I have a report for your father, and I can send a message to the palace along with that and let him know of our plans. I see no harm in it.'

'Well, in that case, our carriage is over there somewhere, so we'll see you when you're ready to leave,' Dr. Dmitri says, nearly sending a tray of champagne flying with a sweeping gesture. Smerdyakov sighs. Loudly.

'Oh, we're done here, so we won't keep you waiting,' Bruno says.

Dr. Dmitri waves, and wanders off with Smerdyakov in tow.

'Are you sure this is all right?' Bruno asks.

'Quite. Besides, we should do the unexpected. Routine is how people — ' _can kill you,_ ' — know how to find you, Prince.' His face clouds over, and he nods. 'Besides.' I touch his arm. 'You've had a rough time of it. We could both do with a respite, I think.'

'Thank you. I mean, for everything. Today, I mean.' Bruno shakes his head, and gives a tired laugh. 'Exhaustion's getting the better of me, I think.'

'Then let's call it a day.' I hand my report — and a note I dashed off — to one of our attendants. Some pleasant bedtime reading for His Majesty.

I take Bruno's arm, and we walk towards the waiting carriage.

 _To be continued..._


	27. Green Blade VI

The cold twilight was a long way from the university.

'What do you mean it didn't work?'

'He was apprehended. Someone spotted the gun,' the servant said.

The young man stepped back. 'B-But… what do I do now?'

The servant shook his head impassively. He left the room.

The young man crumpled against the wall and slid to the floor. 'Wait,' he whispered. 'Help me. I don't know what to do.'

After a silence, he got to his feet and stole through the manor. The smoking room was lit. He avoided the pool of light that spilled from the doorway. He avoided the chink of light that shot from the closed doors of the bedroom.

He went into the study, and took the knife from its glass case with shaking hands.

 _To be continued…_


	28. Green Blade VII

**~ Heine ~**

The carriage ride was a noisy one, and it's somehow almost impressive that Dr. Dmitri is the one making almost all the noise. It feels like a party of ten people. I rest my elbow on the window, and watch the violet and gold of the evening spin by to a rowdy backdrop of conversation and laughter. _I'm almost surprised that Bruno likes him so much. Is this one of those instances of "opposites attract?"_

'Well, I'm afraid our cook is from Orosz,' Dr. Dmitri says by way of apology. 'Have you tried the cuisine yet?'

Bruno smiles, 'I haven't had the pleasure.'

Dr Dmitri laughs heartily. ' _Ада_ , they teach royals how to lie well. Our country's food can be ghastly for the most part, but we'll try to give you a good first impression.'

I watch their banter from the other side of the carriage. Smerdyakov sits beside me. His wide shoulders and bulk take up most of the room. 'So.' I say. I glance up at him, and I have to glance quite a ways up. 'Are you really one of Dr. Dmitri's students?'

Smerdyakov cuts me a sharp look. 'Yes, prying little tutor.'

I shut up. Obviously the shared ground we have isn't enough to compel him to jeopardise his position.

'Ah.' Dr. Dmitri waves an open hand out the window and a passing carriage nearly takes it off. 'Here we are.'

I lean forward and look for myself. A surprisingly large townhouse — well-situated in the streets near the university. I wonder if he has it kept it up in his absence or if he rents it out. Despite his scattered demeanour, I have the feeling that Dr. Dmitri is more well off than he likes to let on.

The carriage lets us out at the steps to the front door and we hurry inside out of the cold.

Strongly-scented wax candles drip in their wall sconces, against velvety green wallpaper. A maid takes our coats. It's deliciously warm. It seems that there are servants who have been busy in our absence: a roaring fire burns in the smoking room, and plates and sparkling crystal glasses have been laid out in the dining room. The servants are already serving the food, punctual as clockwork.

'Please, sit!' Dr. Dimitri pulls out the chair at the other end of the table. 'You're meant to seat royalty at the head of the table, from what I can recall?'

Bruno laughs, and slides into the seat. 'I don't mind.'

We take our seats. The servants pour us drinks, and bring in silver cloches. I don't take a drink, and neither does Smerdyakov. And obviously, neither does Bruno.

When Bruno waves away a glass of wine, Dr. Dimitri comments, swirling the wine in his own glass. 'How old are you again, Bruno? Seventeen?'

'Sixteen,' Bruno says. He sips a spoonful of crimson soup — borscht, an Orosz specialty. 'My brother is seventeen.'

'Ah, yes. Prince Kai, right? The tall white and brooding one.'

Bruno coughs, and chuckles. 'Well… that's one way of putting it.'

I eat while Bruno and Dr. Dmitri talk. Smerdyakov also doesn't speak. Both of us are content to just listen. I wonder if my message has reached Viktor yet. I set my cutlery in my empty bowl. The sight of a lone messenger probably gave Viktor a heart attack, but there wasn't any other way to convey my news at the time. I imagine he'd telegram his panic if he were able. Or come to think of it —

A shrill ringing erupts in the hall, and we all jump.

'Is that a telephone?' I ask.

'Yes, quite,' Dr. Dimitri says, getting up with a clatter. 'A friend of mine from overseas — a scientist fellow — pushed one on me last time I saw him. Frankly I think it's a nuisance, but I suppose in time we won't be able to live without them. Plugging the ruddy things straight into our brains, probably,' he grumbles, and ducks out of the room.

I make to excuse myself from the table, but Dr. Dmitri leans back around the doorframe. 'Ah, Wittgenstein, if you'd come here for a tick. It's the king?'

I run over. 'Your Majesty — '

'Heine! Is Bruno all right? Are you all right? What happened?!'

I wince, and hold the phone away from my ear. 'Would you please calm yourself? Didn't you get the handwritten _report_ I sent you?'

'Well, yes, but…'

I sigh, and smile briefly. I figured he would do something like this. Although I was more expecting it to be by telegram. 'Stop fretting. Prince Bruno is fine. He got off without a scratch.'

'…All right. I'm sending armed guards to Dr. Dimitri's house. I don't want to take any risks.'

'Perhaps ask his permission?' Dr. Dimitri waves a hand and nods. I turn back to the earpiece. 'Besides, how do you have his phone number?'

'I rang to thank him for the time he spent with Bruno earlier this year.' Static flares up in bursts. 'I have to go — I'm sitting out of a meeting of state to call you as it is.'

The earpiece clicks. I pass it back to Dr. Dimitri.

'You seem to be on rather close terms with the king.'

'…We merely have an acquaintance due to my job.'

'Which job? Teaching or bodyguard work?'

I instinctively shift and keep my eyes on him, before forcing myself to stop raising my hackles like a startled cat. '…I imagine you would be able to tell, especially if you have your own bodyguard.' Dr. Dmitri says nothing.

'Is Smerdyakov really your bodyguard?'

Dr. Dmitri heaves a sigh. 'Yes. I suppose my prying was asking for questions in return.'

Dr. Dmitri leans against the wall, and crosses one boot over the other. 'Yes, he is, but he's also my student. He's from Orosz, like myself. There have been some… unpleasant things happening in Orosz. Namely due to the rise of the Marxist regime. Smerdyakov was caught up in it and eventually he couldn't take anymore, so he turned to the path of a scholar and begged me to teach him. It was as though he wanted to undo all the damage done to his mind. He's an excellent student, too. He even left his family's business for the profession.

'It was only later — when I was having some personal difficulties — that he offered me his services as a casual arrangement.'

Smerdyakov and Bruno pass us, talking, and disappear into another room. The candlelight casts Smerdyakov in chiselled shadow. 'Brave,' Dr. Dmitri says. 'To go back to that way of life by choice.'

 _Indeed._

'Well, I think Smerdyakov and Bruno have retired to the smoking room. Care to join them?'

'As you wish. I don't smoke, however.'

'Neither do I. Silly name for the room then, isn't it?'

 _To be continued…_


	29. Green Blade VIII

**~ Bruno ~**

I look up to see Dr. Dmitri and Heine slip into the room. The only light is a roaring fire and the glow of Smerdyakov's pipe. The flames pop, and spit embers.

'Well.' Dr. Dmitri takes an armchair opposite me. 'I promised you a dialogue the next time I was in the area, didn't I? I understand if you don't feel like it…'

'No, please.' I loosen my collar, looking into the fireplace. 'It would take my mind off things.'

'Splendid. I've been reading your theses, by the way.'

I colour slightly. 'O-Oh, I see…'

Dr. Dmitri laughs heartily. 'Well, you did shove a whole suitcase of them at me when I was leaving for Orosz. I felt obliged.' He waves away my stammering apology. 'No, don't. I know the task it is to hand-copy them. Amazing effort.'

'I thought my hand was going to fall off, to be honest.'

We lapse into conversation, discussing our work and different projects. I can tell that he's trying to stay off more challenging subjects — out of consideration, as he probably assumes, correctly, that I'm not at my best — but I want to tackle something hard, want to focus on something difficult.

The fire burns down to blackened logs. Our conversation slows. Dr. Dmitri watches the firelight play over my skin. 'You've certainly earned your reputation in the field of sociology.'

I finger the cameo pin at my throat. 'You're too kind. I often worry I can't do the topic justice — given my age, and I know I'm sheltered in the palace. It's all very well to say, "we should work together," but I know I can't speak for everyone.'

Dr. Dmitri's eyes hold regret. 'No, we can't. Europe has never been perfect. Especially now, given nationalism and Marxism and all the messes we like to make for ourselves.' He stares into the dying flames. 'We'll probably end up destroying each other. Eventually.' He turns back to me. 'But we can speak for our countries at least. And what's the next generation for if not to valiantly fight against all the wrongs of the one before it?'

Even listening to his words, I know I still have a lot to learn. He's so much more learned than I am. Yet he's right — I may be young, but that gives me windows of opportunity that other people wouldn't have. My crown gives me opportunities. I have to make the most of it — for myself, and for the kingdom.

A charred log comes crashing down with a snap. The clock strikes ten.

'Oh. It's rather late.' Dr. Dmitri glances at the clock, then back to me. 'Care to stay the night? It's certainly no palace, I'll admit, but the offer's on the table.'

'Oh…' I look at Heine. Despite the hour, he's wide awake, and alert.

He gestures to Dr. Dmitri. 'I would normally refuse to inconvenience you, but… given the day's events, it may be a good course of action.'

'Great, great stuff.' Dr. Dmitri gets out of his chair and waves for us to follow him. We ascend a flight of stairs. 'We have more guest rooms than we know what to do with. The house is really too ruddy big, but it was the only one near the university at the time when we were buying.'

He opens up two rooms for us. They're joined by a connecting door. Heine casually slips from room to room.

'Well, stay warm. Judging by those gaudily outfitted chaps on the streets, your father's guards have gotten here.' I suppress a laugh. I can't argue with that. Dr. Dmitri adds, 'I also have my own guards. The university told me I had to. I'll be leaving early for lectures tomorrow, but stay as long as you wish.'

'Thank you. Truly.'

He squeezes my shoulder, and he and Smerdyakov leave, closing the door behind them.

I drag off my coat and vest and collapse onto the bed. I kick my boots off as an afterthought.

'Remember to actually go under the covers, Prince, or you'll catch a cold.' Heine appears in the adjoining door way. 'I've checked the rooms, and the windows. We should be safe here.'

I'm too tired to do little more than nod.

'I'll be back in a moment,' Heine says, and slips out of the room. I guess he has to use the washroom at some point. I drag the covers up, and pull my tie off.

A knock at the door. The scare sits me upright, but before my heart can stop beating, Smerdyakov walks in.

'…You scared me,' I finally say.

'Right. And what would you have done if it was someone else?'

I have no answer for that.

Smerdyakov walks over and places something on my bedside table.

A gun.

'I-I-I don't n-need one of those?'

'Better to have it and not need it than otherwise. You know how to shoot?'

'A little, but — '

Smerdyakov sits behind me on the bed, puts the gun in my hand, and moves my arms into the proper stance. It startles me to be so close to someone like this. 'It's a pull-through, so you don't have to cock the hammer. Keep your hand still while squeezing the trigger. It kicks hard, so expect a recoil.'

I'm speechless. So naturally, the first thing to come out is untactful. 'A-Are you a bodyguard?'

'Remember to spin the barrel so it doesn't jam.'

'Are you?'

Smerdyakov grunts. 'What do you think?'

'…I think that you and Heine seem to be similar.' I look at him, out of the corner of my eye. 'In some regards.'

He gets up to leave. 'Then there you go.'

'B-But I don't really need a gun.'

'Probably not. But being able to stall until that little tutor can get from the other room to here and kick someone's _зад_ won't hurt.'

And he strides out of the room.

I put the gun on the bedside table.

Heine comes back. Raises an eyebrow. And checks it's loaded properly.

'Looks like he beat me to it,' he muses. He double-checks the windows. It's inconsequential, but I notice a tear in his waistcoat. It's rather shredded, actually. '…Master, your clothes.'

Heine glances down. 'That's what happens when you get into knife fights.' He shrugs the waistcoat off. A few buttons have come loose on his shirt, and I notice something else. A deep scar. It hugs his hip, and plunges into the waistband of his trousers.

I want to say something, but I don't know what to say. Heine touches the scar, then looks up. And realises I've seen it.

He merely runs a hand over the skin, and raises his eyebrows. Waiting for the question that must be plainly written on my face.

'Is that… Our fault?' Our fault that he got injured?

He looks surprised. 'Pardon? Oh, no. It isn't recent. If anything, it was my fault for trying to pick the pocket of another pickpocket.' He rubs the scar, and grimaces. 'The joys of being young and stupid.'

'But… you've been hurt because of us.' The scrapes on his face, the bruises painting his skin. 'I'm… sorry.'

And I realise I'm… crying.

 _Oh for goodness' sake._ I pull my glasses off and knuckle my eyes. I could die of embarrassment, but I feel awful. I didn't even think… that he could get hurt. I was wrapped up in my own selfish needs and plans and didn't even —

Heine crosses the room and touches my shoulders. Takes me in an embrace, and it startles me out of my tears. 'Stop that.' The spiced scent of cologne, mixed with gunpowder. The gentle touch of calloused fingers. Torn, roughened linen. His hand caresses the back of my neck, and draws me close. 'Don't think for a moment that I didn't choose this for myself. I choose to risk getting hurt to protect the people I care about. And I care about you, and your brothers.'

He looks at me, meets my eyes. 'You can't help being born a prince. And you're not responsible for others' choices. So don't apologise.'

My fingers close over his, and I fold my glasses up. 'If you wish. Heine.' Panic hits me. 'A-Ah, I mean "Master!"

Heine smiles. He hesitates, one hand still on my shoulder. 'I've said you can call me what you wish, you know. Even though you've always been hung up on this "master" obsession. So if you want to call me Heine… I wouldn't mind.'

I shake my head, scrambling to explain. 'I-It was an accident!'

Heine chuckles. 'Well. As you wish, my prince.'

He leaves, and pads into his room. He leaves his door open. Which brings everything back.

It takes me a while to fall asleep.

 _To be continued…_


	30. Green Blade IX

**~ Heine ~**

I wake up, yet I don't know why. An unfamiliar mattress. Or lingering pain from bruised limbs, perhaps.

I listen for a minute. The wind and the sound of Bruno's breathing melt together, with off-key notes of metal scattered throughout.

Someone is forcing entry through the window.

I sigh, and drop my feet over the side of the bed. I don't know if I was truly expecting another attack, but the idea was in the back of my mind. If you were to theorise that the hitman at the university was being paid, then wouldn't it make sense that the person behind it try to finish the job?

I get up. I'm still wearing my holsters. It was hardly comfortable sleeping with knives pressing into my back.

Yet the longer I wait, the longer it is without someone smashing their way through the window.

 _How anticlimactic._

I frown. Have they left?

The faint creak of wood. I pause in the doorway. A shadow pushes the window open and jumps through. He's holding a knife. I grit my teeth.

I draw one of my own blades, but something makes me stop. I can see his movements. His face. Hesitation, fear, the blade trembling in his hand. _You've got to be joking_ — and then Bruno wakes up. His eyes focus and widen. I barely see the movement, but he has the gun in his hand. I didn't think he could move that fast. I snatch the attacker from behind.

He gasps. The blade drops with a _thunk_ and he claws at my arms. 'Wait, stop — help —'

I smother his cry with a hand and drag him to the floor. _Is anyone even hearing this?_ Awful lot of good Viktor's guards are doing us. Only once he's facedown on the floor with my knees in his back, and his arm bent to the snapping point in my grip, do I take a breath.

I touch my blade to his neck. He whimpers.

As I thought. 'You're a child.'

Bruno looks shocked. It was obvious once I was fighting him: his limbs were slender, and it was obvious that he lacked the muscle and bulk of an adult. 'So, what brings you here at this hour, may I ask?' He stiffens under my fingers. 'Oh, I wasn't asking. Talk.' I force him into a chair.

He's young. Bruno's age. Feathery black hair and stunning blue eyes. He looks at his empty hands.

'Now,' I order.

He flinches. 'I-I…' He stops, and exhales. 'Nn.' He runs a hand through his hair. His fingers tangle with the snarled locks.

After a moment, I kick his knife into the air and toss it into a desk drawer, before sheathing my own. 'If it's any comfort, I won't hurt you.'

His eyes flash, and I see him favouring the arm I pinned behind his back. I scoff beneath my breath. 'Trust me, that doesn't even qualify as pain.' He says nothing. 'I've got all night.' For some reason, I don't think that it's that he won't talk. It's that he doesn't know what to say.

I sigh, and rub the back of my neck. 'You don't even know how to hold that knife. And it's not even for practical use. It's an ornamental dagger.'

'I-I… I wasn't going to… I had to take something.'

'What, to kill the prince with?'

His shoulders jerk. 'No! No, that's not…'

I sit beside him. I rest a hand on his shoulder. 'Please tell us.' I have a feeling there's much more to this than appearances would have us believe. 'At least start with your name.'

He locks his fingers together. '…Guylian.' And he begins dredging up the words. 'It was my brother.' He manages a bitter smile, at the colloquial sounds that the words make. 'He was a professor at the university. Friedlman.'

Bruno's eyes light with recognition. 'I know him.'

Guylian presses his lips together. 'A lot of people do. Everyone loved him. He was a genius. My parents were so proud of him — because they liked what he did for their reputations. But t-then…' He chokes up. 'He talked to me. He'd been fighting with my parents, again. He said he was sick of it. Said that he couldn't take the pressure anymore. So the next day he jumped off a bridge.'

Bruno flinches. My fingernails prick my palm, and I flex and loosen my fingers. 'I see. I read something of the incident in the papers this week.' _So that means he only died a couple of days ago._

'I didn't want to believe it. I knew him well… I thought.' Guylian grips his collar with a hand. 'So guess what happened next?' He gives a tired smile. 'My parents… needed to save face. Why merely disinherit me if they had nothing left? So they told me I had to get into the university or they'd ruin me.'

Bruno looks aghast. 'Surely not,' he says, but I shake my head at him.

'They said they would put me out and have me publicly shamed. There are enough tabloids in Glanzreich to make it happen, and also freedom of speech. I wouldn't put them past sending someone… after me.' A whole conversation lies unspoken in those two words. 'But I was already trying to get into the university. I'm a scholar. I wanted to work with my brother, that's why I chose that path. But they wouldn't let me in because I'm too young. And they still won't let me in, either.'

'But you can't be more than sixteen,' I say.

He smiles weakly. 'I'm fifteen.'

'There's no way,' Bruno whispers. 'There's no way they'd let him in.'

'No, but it's not like I had a choice. Only princes get special privileges, it seems.'

My grip on Guylian's shoulders tightens. 'So you decided to kill the prince?'

Shame and protest spark in his eyes. 'No! …No. I just…I had to do something. I didn't know what to do.' He tries to smile but this time he can't. 'I actually like Prince Bruno's work, believe it or not. Awful, I know. I just had to do something. I've tried everything to get the university to let me in.'

His expression blanks. 'It was my parents that told… said that I should… go after the prince. And then I couldn't get it out of my head. I just couldn't take it anymore.' His lips tremble. 'Maybe I snapped.'

A cold wind blows in. I close the window, and then sit again.

 _His parents…_ For better or worse, things are falling into place. 'So you cause an uproar; make a mess by targeting the person that has everything you don't because of difference in circumstances; potentially eliminate any competition and free up the slot of child prodigy, and the university miraculously lets you in out of sympathy for your dead brother?'

'I don't know.' He stares at his hands. 'I… I always have to think about everything. I couldn't take it, so I just…' The shame burns on his face, as reality sets in. 'I-I stopped thinking.'

No one speaks for a minute.

Bruno folds back the covers, and puts his glasses on. 'Your parents are well off?'

Guylian bites his lip. 'My brother supported the family. With his wages from the university.'

Bruno sighs. 'Of course. All lecturers get compensated for their work.'

'But what about yourself?' I ask.

Bruno shakes his head, and says, 'As you can imagine, I don't need to be paid.' The ironically cruel injustice of the situation twists its knife, and I can see it on Guylian's face. 'I asked them to put my wages towards the building the university's book collection.'

I turn back to Guylian. 'So your parents need you take your brother's place? That's ridiculous. You wouldn't even be able to afford the fees to study to become a lecturer, and the studying itself would take you years.'

Guylian looks down. 'Well, it wasn't my idea.' _Unfair of me._ I touch his hand in apology.

I pause. 'So you hired the gunman.'

'He disagreed with something in one of Prince Bruno's theses. He… Yes, I did.'

 _Good grief._ I've heard of fanatical critics, but this is ridiculous. 'You paid an assassin to kill the Prince?'

'No! Not kill him, I just didn't know what to… do.' Tears of shame glitter in the dark, and he dashes them away. 'I was jealous, I guess. I know it was childish. I was just so…' His fingernails scrape angry red scratches across his cheeks. 'He was meant to miss. I made a mistake, but I'm not like my — '

He stops.

 _Not like my parents?_ Is that what he was going to say? I ignore the sick feeling in my chest. This isn't the last time that someone's parents were responsible for their child attacking a member of the royal family. _Viktor…_

Guylian swallows. 'And I came here, and… I don't know what I was even going to do — it was awful, I'm so s-sorry!'

I let him choke back his tears. 'I think you're aware what you've done.'

'I-I am. And…' He looks at Bruno. 'I'm so sorry. I know, it sounds pathetic. But… I am. So sorry. Please believe me. I didn't… I'm sorry.'

Bruno says nothing for a moment. Then manages to give something resembling a smile. 'I understand. It's all right.' The fact that he can respond kindly at all is something of a miracle. 'However, I want to see some of your theses sometime.' Guylian looks as though he's been hit by a carriage. Bruno smiles, tiredly, but somehow it looks more genuine. 'I want to understand where you're coming from.'

It seems that Guylian can't make any response to that. 'So…' His hands lie limp, no weapons left to defend himself with. 'You're going to arrest me?'

I shrug. 'I don't know.'

'What?'

'I said I don't know. You were under extreme mental duress. Your parents coerced and blackmailed you into criminal activity. Despite whether you were consciously thinking or not, you hesitated. You didn't use the knife. So I'm trying to trust you on that basis.'

He gives me a smile, biting back tears. 'I don't deserve even that.'

The window shatters; shadow blasts through the spray of shards and I skid to Bruno's side, gun in hand — but he's not after the prince.

He lunges after Guylian.

I catch a glimpse of his terrified face, before he's smashed into the wall. ' _Agh!_ '

I streak through the room and spring, clawing a grip into the man's arm and knocking him off balance. I shove Guylian into Bruno's arms — the man pulls me off and hurls me at the floor. The floorboards shatter. Stars explode. He draws his gun, and slashes at my neck to finish the job.

I scissor-kick the gun out of his hand and catch his blow with a blade of my own. The gun leaves an ugly gash in the wallpaper. Steel shrieks on steel.

I grin, canines bared. 'How considerate of you. I make a point of not harming children, so I was just _waiting_ for someone whom I could let out steam on.'

I throw my knife, half-blind; a spray of blood tells me I hit my mark, and I spring to my feet and follow up with a hefty slash of my blade before slamming him into the wall. He manages to land a flailing punch on my ribs before I bring him down, cracking his skull on a bureau.

Our door slams open and Smerdyakov storms in. 'Little tutor!'

'I resent being called little,' I snap, and jerk my head aside as a blade punches past, grazing skin.

Smerdyakov realises what he's looking at — a bloodbath rather than a pillow fight — and clenches his jaw. 'Get clear and I'll deal with it.'

Without even caring to look, I sink a crunching blow into the man's skull and nick a neat line of claw marks in the his jugular vein. He passes out with due haste.

I glance over my shoulder. 'Lovely of you to offer, but I'm quite all right.'

Smerdyakov raises an eyebrow. And snorts. I could be imagining it, but that might even be a smile on his face. 'Leaving me to take out the garbage, then?'

'If you wouldn't mind.' I sit, flopping like a rag doll as the adrenaline cools.

'Royal custody?'

'Quite,' I murmur. 'We may as well put the dungeons to use.'

Smerdyakov hauls the man's unconscious body over his shoulder and exits with his load. In the corner, Bruno helps Guylian to sit up. Guylian has his hand pressed to his face. I have the feeling that he may be sporting a shiner in a while. They both look battered, but relatively unharmed.

'Are you both well?' I ask, to confirm.

Guylian's eyes look pained, and scared, but he manages a small nod. Bruno nods as well, looking a little overwhelmed. Kai is the only prince who's had the privilege of seeing me fight before, so Bruno must have been rather shocked. Let alone stunned from the shock of the affair. 'So to speak. But what about you, Master?'

'Oh, I'm fine.'

Guylian looks as though he doesn't know which to be surprised by — that I'm familiar with these affairs or that Prince Bruno calls me master.

Smerdyakov has already returned, and Dr. Dmitri with him. The latter rushes past me, praising God that both the boys are both unharmed, and not even caring that we seem to have acquired a second one over the course of the night.

Despite not wanting to realise this, I've worked out how Guylian got in through our window, as there's no way he would have been skilled enough to pick the locks for himself.

Someone else let him in. And possibly, the same person then followed him into kill him.

And I don't think Guylian even knows.

I slip out of the room. Smerdyakov follows. 'Has a doctor been ordered for the boys?' I ask.

Smerdyakov grunts. 'He'll be arriving any minute.'

I lean against the wall. 'That's… good.'

Smerdyakov glances at me. I press a hand to my ribs. 'It's just that I may need to see him as well.'

It seems my suspicions are correct. Stab wounds can often feel like punches at the time, you see.

I gingerly prod the wound. Wince a little. It's not bleeding very much. 'It seems I got off lightly.'

Smerdyakov pulls my shirt up and checks the damage for himself. He whistles, a slow wolf whistle. 'You are lucky, little tutor.'

It bares my other scars to view. After a moment, Smerdyakov covers the patchwork of my torso again.

'Maybe,' I say. 'I don't know.' I keep one hand pressed to the pulsing gash in my side. 'I know someone must be watching out for me.'

Smerdyakov leans against the wall at my side. 'Here's to hoping they're willing to stay on task a little longer.'

'Indeed.'

The scent of blood wafts in the hall, and we wait in the dark.

 _To be continued…_


	31. Green Blade X

**~ Heine ~**

I lean against the bridge railing. The bitter, metallic scent of the river water below mingles with the aroma of coffee and flowers. A newspaper dangles from my fingertips. _SPEECH SHOT DOWN — PRINCE ATTACKED._ It seems Bruno made headlines after all.

My stab wound throbs beneath my vest. My coat hides the torn fabric and bandages. It's a miracle that we got any sleep last night.

I accompanied Bruno back to the palace this morning, then went straight back to town. Even though Bruno survived the ordeal of yesterday, the sheer force of Viktor's hug upon his return nearly finished him off. I ran off again before Viktor could even get started on the events that played out the day before.

I also saw to Guylian. He's temporarily under protection and custody of the state, and is in the custody of an obliging soldier's family. Ignoring that Guylian could have potentially assassinated the prince — not to mention the mystery of there being yet another gunman at the university — the fact that all of us were targeted by _another_ assassin took priority. Was he there to silence Guylian? Did a plotter influence Guylian to take the actions that he did, much like someone potentially influenced Herr Graaz, and coerced Estiella?

The dark currents flow under my feet. I watch the bustling cafes crowded around the bridge. A charming part of town, to be sure. Ignoring the fact that a perfectly nice young man took a swan dive off this very bridge. Other than that, absolutely charming.

Then I see him: eleven on the dot, stepping down from a black carriage and taking a seat in a cafe for a _kapuziner_ , two sugars, no milk. The secretary at the police station has an eye for detail. I cross the street and take the other chair at his table.

I rest my elbows on the tabletop, ignoring his bewilderment. 'Chief?' I take a swathe of paper from my coat. 'I'm making inquiries on behalf of the royal family for an investigation, and it ties into the Friedlman case. Your secretary told me I could find you here?'

He frowns heavily, and raps his spoon on the rim of his cup, before stirring. 'She's not meant to disclose my location.'

'She was disclosing it per a request on behalf of the king.'

The police chief heaves a gusty sigh. 'Fair enough. What do you wish to know? If you're so persuasive, I'm sure you've already looked at the case file.'

'I have.' The body hadn't been autopsied.

'Then what more do you want to know? It's a cold case, it's not going anywhere.'

I look back, at the bridge. 'Did anyone see anything? Anything suspicious when it happened?'

The police chief looks irritated. 'We took witness reports when we were called in. Those reports are in the case files. There weren't any officers in the area when he cannonballed over the railing.'

I get up. Maybe you learn a disregard for human life in the task force from sheer desensitisation, but I'm already past dealing with it. 'Sorry to waste your time,' I say, in the sharpest, clipped voice I can muster, and walk out of the cafe.

Carriages and pedestrians flow left and right. I hesitate. The cafe next to this one is famous for its coffee. I remember hearing about it from Licht. Apparently, a lot of Fonseinian people come here just for the coffee, made by baristas from their home country. _The flavour of home, perhaps?_

I step from the outside dining area of this cafe to the patio of the next one. _What so you know?_ Duchess Arra of Fonseine is sitting there. Her skirts are elegantly arranged, yet she's gulping down a coffee so dark you would call it masculinity liquefied. Ignoring her guards, I take a seat opposite her. The guards draw their guns. Arra's eyebrows shoot up, then she recognises me and grins. 'Herr Wittgenstein!'

The guards do not drop their guns.

 _My brother and I were… involved in an unfortunate incident, recently._ I narrow my eyes. I can only blame the men's pedantic guarding of the duchess on that. Because what else could I blame it on?

I put the tinging of my intuition aside, and smile, and yet her face drops as though I've thrown ice water over her head. 'You look wretched,' she says. 'What's the matter?'

I brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. 'Forgive me, I've been preoccupied. I was looking for you.'

She looks a little wary. 'I don't know whether to be flattered or suspicious.'

'I apologise. I took a wild guess and thought you might frequent this cafe.'

She slurps her coffee, and sets the cup down with a rattle. 'I do. Only Fonseinians can make proper Fonseinian coffee. All other coffee burns my delicate palate.' I don't think it's the beverage that's burning, I think it's her sarcasm.

'A lovely establishment, to be sure. With a nice view.'

She crosses her arms. 'Just spit it out. You don't have to elegantly lead the conversation.'

'As you wish. If you frequent this cafe, did you bear witness to a young man jumping off the bridge a short time ago?'

'Yes. A sad affair.'

 _Because what police officer would ask nobility to give a witness?_

I lean forward. 'And did you notice anything odd?'

Her eyes glint and she leans forward in turn. 'As a matter of fact, I did. He was merely standing at the railing. Someone spoke to him, and _then_ he fell.'

'Did you report that detail?'

'It was already a massive mess.' She lowers her lashes. 'The man hit his head on the stone ledge when he fell. Everyone heard the crack, and the police were on the scene moments later.'

I lean back in my chair. My chest hurts, and not because of my wound. 'So what do you think happened?'

She doesn't answer right away. 'You know how all humans have a sense, a craving for drama?'

I nod. I've studied that theory before, and it's likely she has too.

'Well, it was like that. People rarely look at the beauty of a sunset, but we always stop to gape at a carriage wreck. We have an appetite for drama, and scandal. So when the young man fell, all the bystanders rushed to look, to gawk, to spectate. It seemed that no one else had noticed someone was talking to him before it happened.' She lowers her voice. 'Everyone was preoccupied. No one noticed that the other man had a knife.'

'There were no autopsies,' I say. 'And with skill, stabbings can be hidden almost completely. The methods are countless. And he hit the stones, as well.'

Guylian's brother was dead before he hit the water.

I get up from my chair. 'Thank you for your time, Duchess.'

'A pleasure. Off to request an autopsy?'

'Regretfully, yes. Take care.'

She touches her empty cup with a fingertip. 'I should be saying that. After all, it seems your princes have cornered the market in this business.' The heavy regret in her voice completely alters the spirit of jest in her words.

I make to leave, but she speaks again.

'Herr Wittgenstein. I'm afraid that as a duchess, I have little knowledge of politics — as a woman, it's not my place to know of such things.' Her about-face trips a warning, and she has my full attention. She gives me a liquid, intense look. 'Yet perhaps it could be possible that the princes are being attacked by a foreign power? Not attacked from within, but without?'

The only way such a dangerous statement would merit making would be if she knows who it is.

My pulse races. She doesn't look at me. She fakes the smile, the dizzy charm of a young girl. 'I wonder who it could be? I wonder who would have the motivation to do something like this?'

 _She knows. She knows who it is._

Yet she lies, deceives, pretends. Is she covering for someone? Does she truly know? Can she not say?

Countries and people flash through my head.

Glanzreich: Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg.

Orosz: Dr. Dmitri and Smerdyakov.

Fonseine: Duchess Arra —

Arra. Her blonde hair.

Fonseine. Glanzreich.

Royal matches. Marriage —

— _rumoured to be very beautiful, it has been said —_

Blonde hair —

The cameo pin —

— the portrait in Viktor's office —

The princes —

Viktor's wife — Fonseine — was she —

The blonde silhouette of the cameo pin and the portrait blurs and melds with the young member of Fonseinian nobility sitting before me.

Viktor's wife is dead and she is never spoken of. Her memory laid to her rest. I don't even know so much as her name.

Was Viktor's wife from Fonseine?

My eyes ask, wide and desperate with all the unanswered questions.

Duchess Arra sips from her empty cup. 'I wouldn't know, of course. What role do _women_ have in such things? And what would we from _Fonseine_ know about spies and such? That's Venezia's niche.'

She knows who it is. And she apologises with everything she can put into the look she gives me over over the rim of her cup.

A tale of two kingdoms, of a dead queen, of bullets and knives.

I leave, dizzy and breathless. What a disastrous web we've woven.

 _End of Act 3: Green Blade_

 _To be continued in Act 4: Purple Bullet…_

* * *

 **A/N:** All right. Let me clarify something. I am aware that Adele mentions the queen is alive in the Volume 10 of the manga, where she says in a bonus comic, 'Papa and Mama and big brother Eins always come home!' I am aware. I am _painfully aware._ I was not aware of this, however, when I wrote The Royal Bodyguard, because at that time Volume 10 was not yet in print.

So given that in seventy-five chapters the queen was mentioned only _once_ , I thought that as I was writing this thing then why not try to come up with an explanation while I was at it? Because at this point in time the only other explanation for the queen's absence can be that she's recovering from a respiratory illness in a clinic in the Swiss Alps. Either that or she's been camping out in the Lothringens' attic after having a spat with Viktor's mother. And so on and on and on.

And that's where my supposed Dead!Queen canon divergence came from, so my apologies for that. If in the future the manga does indeed confirm that the queen is alive and that Adele's comment was not the fantasy of a deluded three-year old who has yet to process a parental death (in the same way that I'm delusional and trying to pretend as though that bonus comic didn't retrospectively shoot my story in the proverbial foot), then by all means I will rework 'The Royal Bodyguard' with that in mind. In the mean time, all aboard the queen-centric backstory train, everyone.

Reviews, feedback, and criticism welcome, and the Kinda!Canon!Compliant!Story continues in the next act...


	32. Purple Bullet I

**~ Heine ~**

I return to the palace with more papers than I know what to do with. Witness reports, statements of arrest, and the like. I walk up the palace driveway, counting the paving stones, not looking where I'm going. I could sleep for a week. I enter the palace and pad up the steps to my room — nearly making it, too — but then I see Viktor coming down the hall. I wince; I turn to run, but it's too late —

'Heine!'

He tackles me from behind and nearly knocks me over. 'For goodness' sake, Viktor — what if someone saw you? And what did I do to deserve _that_?' I ask, through gritted teeth.

'You know how skilled I am at escaping my guards. And it's called a hug, Heine — perhaps you've heard of it?'

I frown in annoyance. 'That felt more like assault.'

Viktor lets me go and brushes off my coat. It's seen better days, for sure. 'Cold, Heine. Cold. Besides, you ran off again after returning Bruno to the palace. I haven't even had the chance to talk with you.'

He straightens my collar, and I pull out the sheaf of papers. 'I've already compiled…' The room spins. I sway on my feet. 'Everything…'

Alarmed, Viktor places his hands on my waist to steady me and — _no, stop —_ and his fingers press against my stab wound. Ugly, hot pain explodes in my side. 'Agh —!' I claw at his hands, fingers locking up, gripping his sleeves, and a pair of guards rounds the corner with gleaming halberds in hand, and they just walked in on Viktor and I fighting, and oh… __._

' _Your Majesty!_ '

Viktor cuts them off with a sharp gesture, and dismisses them.

The hallway is now abandoned. He turns back to me. His eyes tighten. 'What happened?'

'I'm fine. Let me go.'

'Heine — '

'Release me.'

'Heine, _please_.'

Viktor touches my face and tilts it up to his. He sees the fingernail scrapes on my cheek, on my neck. His breath hitches. 'Heine. Please. Don't make me do something stupid. Don't make me order you to tell me, because I don't want to start doing that now.'

I look away. And let him unfasten my waistcoat and shirt, and see, see the bandages and the faint line of crimson. His fingers clench, ever so slightly. 'Oh, Heine…'

I sigh, before giving him a look. 'Here? In the hallway, really? This is indecent behaviour, Your Majesty.'

I ignore his protests, and button my clothes again. 'I got off lightly. I'm fine. I've even been running around town all morning.' And with the worst timing, the room starts to spin again.

Viktor rounds on me and goes in for the kill. 'You can barely stand, Heine. Let some of my attendants follow these things up for you. And just stop arguing, because you're not fine — you're a minute away from folding on the carpet.'

I blink, in a daze. My eyes won't focus. 'I'm… fine.'

Viktor looks ready to throttle me. I'm fine… why won't he believe me? But then his anger crumples. He half-smiles. 'What am I going to do with you?'

I turn and walk off, still feeling slightly dizzy. 'I'm sorry, but I've got to get to the princes' lessons. I've been neglecting their schoolwork enough as it is.'

Footsteps, and Viktor catches me by my shoulders. 'No, you need to _rest —_ '

And at that moment, Prince Kai rounds the corner. As dishevelled as ever: he's lost one of his gloves and his jacket's coming off again. His soft white hair is in its usual tangle. At the sight of him, I realise I'm forgetting something, something important…

'Ah, Kai!' Viktor calls. 'Would you do me a favour and carry Heine to his room for me?'

Kai nods. 'Nnh.'

'What?' I protest, but I'm already in Kai's arms and at a dizzying height above the floor. I honestly don't know if I could get free even if I wanted to.

'Rest,' Viktor says.

I drag up the energy for a parting shot. 'You'll have to order me, Your Highness.'

He grumbles, and flicks me on the wrist as he passes, heading for his next appointment.

Kai carries me with no more effort than he would a doll. I lean limply in his arms. 'My… apologies, Prince,' I whisper.

He glances down at me and shakes his head. 'Nnh.'

My fingers grip the open collar of his shirt. I fade in and out of consciousness. I vaguely feel Kai setting me down on my bed, and the room stops blurring for a moment. The ugly throb of my wound burns in the background.

I regain clarity for a brief moment, long enough to realise that Viktor has already sent the palace physician to my room. Helene is tending a newly-lit fire in the grate. Kai is gone.

My wandering eyes land on the palace physician. 'I just need painkillers. I'll take the strongest ones you've got.' If drugging myself into being able to function is what it's going to take, then so be it.

'There will be side effects, you know…'

'I could care less. I'll be fine.'

I force the pills between my teeth, and collapse back on the pillows. The doctor leaves.

Helene helps me get off my coat and boots and other personal effects. If my holsters give her pause, I don't notice. Before I pass out altogether, I tend to one last thing. 'Helene?'

She jumps, corkscrew curls springing. 'Y-Yes?'

'Can you… wake me up in a few hours?'

She nods and curtseys, but hesitates. 'Of course, but don't you need to rest?'

'This qualifies as rest. I have to give the princes their lessons later.'

'As you wish.' She backs out of the room. I close my eyes. I feel dizzy, and my pulse is starting to skip. The room blurs into a kaleidoscope.

 _Side effects…_ And with that, I pass out.

 _To be continued…_


	33. Purple Bullet II

**~ Heine ~**

A finger lightly taps my face. It takes me a while to wake up. 'I'll be there in a minute…'

'I-It's me, Helene, Professor Heine.'

Hot sunlight heats the back of my eyes, and I squint. A searing blue sky fills the room. A maid ties the curtains back, and looks at me uncertainly. 'Good afternoon, Professor.'

I sit up. My head spins. I'm tripping. 'Good afternoon. My apologies, but… where am I?'

'Y-Your room? In the palace?'

I draw a blank. 'Why am I in the palace?' Did Viktor… Wait…

I press a hand to my head. No, I'm only about twenty years off the mark. The more the effects of sleep wear off, the more I realise I don't quite feel myself.

My nerves are fizzing. I'm light-headed and unsteady, as though I've had far too many espressos. My memory is rather shot, too.

'You asked me to wake you up, for the princes' lessons this afternoon.' Helene pauses beside me. 'Are you sure you're all right?'

I sit up, and stifle a yawn. 'Positively psychedelic. Puppies and rainbows, and… things.'

Helene's eyebrows shoot into her hairline, and she manages a scared laugh. 'W-Wonderful. E-Excuse me!' And she nigh well sprints out of the room.

That's odd. Was it something I said?

I swing my legs over the side of the bed; fumble for my glasses, and get up. The carpet feels soft under my bare feet. I pat myself down. I'm wearing a shirt, and slacks. I drag on my waistcoat and fumble with the buttons. My fingers brush my bare collarbone, set in my undone shirt collar. My coat hangs from a coat stand. I'll give that a miss. I run my fingers through my hair, loosening a few snarls before sweeping a pile of paper — along with my teacher's pointer — off the desk and under one arm. Ah. I take my holsters and strap them on. 'Knife, gun… Yay. Excellent.'

I dart out the door, and nearly catch my foot on the doorframe, nearly flying headlong into a suit of armour. 'Oops.' I get my footing, and set off down the hall. I went the wrong way. I pivot and go in the other direction. I don't know why, but I'm feeling refreshed — which seems to be a change from how I've been feeling recently — but I can only vaguely remember why that is…

I stretch my free arm over my head and feel a twinge in my side. I wince, and stop. I slip a hand beneath my shirt. Bandages… Was I stabbed? Strange that it doesn't hurt more. Huh. I don't really remember it, but I must have been clumsy to get a knife in my ribs. I shrug, and keep walking. Oh well. It doesn't hurt. _And besides,_ I think with a smile, _I've got my own blades if anyone else tries to get stabby with me, so who cares?_

My memory's still a mess, but I know I'm meant to be giving the princes a group lesson. I stroll down the halls. Where exactly… I catch a hint of blonde hair through an open door, and I make a right through the doorway.

'Ah, Heine.' The four princes are already here. Leonhard glances at the clock. 'You're a bit late.'

'My apologies.' I dump my papers on the table beside the blackboard in the room, and something makes me stop. A blackboard… why is a blackboard making me suspicious, of all things? Just another hole in my sketchy memory, I guess.

I turn to face the four of them. 'Right, sorry I'm late. If you want to take your seats, we'll get started.'

I realise that Licht's been staring for a few minutes now. He raises an eyebrow, a grin on his face. 'Hey, Teach, I like the new… look.'

'What? Oh.' I realise I've forgotten to wear my tie, and my collar is undone _a lá_ Prince Kai. Let alone all the holster straps on my arms and legs, an unfamiliar sight, now that I realise it. This isn't how I normally operate, is it? 'Thanks, I suppose?'

Bruno looks a little wary, no doubt disturbed by my informal attire. Even Kai looks surprised. Perhaps I should have made more of an effort to get my act together. I sigh. 'Well, variety is the spice of life, so — '

Leonhard points with one finger. 'Okay, but — Heine, where are your shoes?'

I look down. Then look up. Leonhard looks, well… freaked, is the only way of putting it. 'That's an excellent question. I don't know. And raise your hand next time.'

I reach for my teacher's pointer. Wait a moment — if my teacher's pointer is on the table, then what's — ah. I sheath the knife I accidentally drew, pick up my pointer, and toss it to my other hand. 'All right. Let's get on with it. Want to sit?'

The princes kind of fall into their seats. Looking dazed, amongst other things.

'Right.' I sit on the edge of the table. 'Today we're…' I break off and pick up the first sheet of paper in my pile, scan it, then toss it aside. It may or may not have landed on the table. It drifts to the floor. No, it didn't make it. 'Today we're doing history review. Grab your text books.'

'W-What page number?' Bruno asks, completely rattled.

'Numbers. Plural. We're reviewing quite a lot. And I've got no clue.'

Leonhard reaches boiling point and explodes. 'What the — but you _wrote_ these lessons, didn't you?!'

'Yeah, yeah.' I pick up the next page. 'Just wait, if you would.' I scan the paper. Too many numbers. I toss the page aside, and slip off the table. 'Looks like a drag. Just read the textbook sometime before the exams and you should be fine. Let's move onto the next section.'

Bruno looks distressed. 'But there's no way — '

'Great!' Leonhard looks ecstatic. 'No looking through the text for answers to review questions! I _hate_ that,' he adds, under his breath.

I grin. 'Great. Works for everyone.'

All the princes flinch and Licht nearly falls out of his chair. My smile shatters and disappears immediately. 'What?'

'Was that a… smile?' Licht asks, feigning shock. Or perhaps he really is shocked.

I give him a look. 'What — you want compliments on your twenty-twenty vision?'

I can't even force a smile anymore. I'm feeling tired, and depressed. That's not like me, is it? It's not as though I'm prone to mood swings, either. I pick up some chalk; flick through the textbook. Huh, Fonseine. Coincidence. Snatches of memory from yesterday come back. Being stabbed, Duchess Arra, the university.

'Well, препятствуйте нам…' I quickly switch back to Gherman. After frequently conversing with Smerdyakov in his language yesterday, it's still stuck in my head. 'Well, let's get started before the whole lesson goes to _ад_.' …Still stuck.

Bruno raises an eyebrow. Leonhard leans over and whispers to Kai, 'I thought we were studying Fonseine, not Orosz.' Kai shrugs. I pretend I didn't hear.

'Well. Fonseine. Neighbouring kingdom of Glanzreich. The two have been connected by royal marriages over centuries — ' I stop, and the princes look confused. 'Wait, isn't your mother from Fonseine?' I ask.

The reaction varies from prince to prince, but they generally look as though I fired a cannon over their heads.

'A-Ah, no, she's not.' Bruno looks completely bewildered. 'Isn't. I mean, wasn't.'

 _Wasn't._ I realise I may have just overstepped myself in the most catastrophic way possible. 'I-I'm sorry,' I stammer, my heart racing. I feel sick. 'I didn't think — '

Bruno shakes his head. And I realise what I've missed, and the realisation clinks, like a rusty key on iron bars.

…The princes don't actually seem that upset.

'No, it's all right. It's strange, actually.' Bruno stares at his desk. 'We don't actually talk about her that much.'

Leonhard fingers his hair. He's still wearing it in braids, for that matter. 'I guess we were with her more when we were younger. I mean, we knew her and everything, and we miss her, but when we were older she was often away on diplomatic trips or attending to her royal duties.'

 _I see_. It's only normal for royal children to not know much of their mother — the queen — and to be raised by governesses and nurse maids. Or a tutor, in this instance.

Licht crosses his arms behind his head. 'Yeah. She was gorgeous, I remember that much. There's a portrait of her in Dad's office.'

 _How many times have I been in there and seen it, without thinking about it?_

Kai tugs his jacket closer around his shoulders. 'She died… A while after Adele was born. She was ill.'

If Adele is three years old, then it could only have been a year or two ago. Something's ticking in the back of my brain. _Is this connected, in someway?_ What… Where did that come from? Connected to what?

My thoughts are so scattered that I can't even remember where we got up to in our lesson. 'I guess…' I put my papers down and sigh. 'Look, let's call it quits.'

I wipe down the blackboard, then realise I didn't actually write anything on it. I gather my papers, and look up to see the princes staring at me.

Licht laughs weakly. 'Well, I'm all for keeping it short and sweet, but still. That was only five minutes, Teach.'

'Glanzreich, Fonseine, royal marriages, the end. Show's over. It's just history, right?'

A chair clatters and Leonhard grabs me by the shoulders. 'Just history? You told me that a candidate for the throne has to have a proper grasp of all subjects!' He shakes me, practically lifting me off the floor. 'You're a _teacher_ — What's wrong with you, Heine?! You're being an, an — an _idiot —_ get a grip, _please!_ '

An idiot? I blink, still a good foot off the ground. Maybe he's right. He _is_ right: I've been feeling like I've been free-falling. I've been feeling good, but I can't get a grip on anything.

Then I realise I'm crying. Barely, just tears spilling over, my breath not coming evenly.

Licht's chair hits the ground and he strides over — for once, he doesn't just look older than Leonhard, he acts it, too. Actual anger shows on his face. 'Leo! What did you _do_?'

Leonhard flinches. He lets me go. I stand where he leaves me, limp, like a doll. 'I-I didn't! I only said…' His hands stop and start. 'I just… Don't tell me you're not just as worried about him as I am!'

'Yeah, but at least I'm not yelling at him! _You_ get a grip!'

'Don't — '

'Stop.'

The princes all stop, and look at me. I've finally regained my senses to a degree, and what's happened is so pathetically ridiculous that it's almost funny. 'I'm on painkillers. Drugs.' I have to rest a hand on the desk to keep my balance, and I can't seem to regain control of my emotions yet. Things start falling into place, piece by piece. 'There are strong side effects — memory problems, emotional instability…' I take off my glasses, and knuckle my eyes. Forcing back the unwanted, embarrassing tears. 'It's not anything you said, it's just that I'm trying not to fall off a tightrope, so to speak. As you can see, it's not going particularly well.'

I slip my glasses back on, and take a breath. Let's see. I'm recovering my mental capabilities, and surprisingly, I'm feeling better physically than I have been for several days. The medicine must be working, for all it's other dubious charms. But as my memory settles, my knees buckle. I've ruined my lessons, thrown my usual neat mode of dress out the window, and the _things_ I've said. Later, as I remember the finer details, I'll probably be compelled to throw myself out a window or take up contemplative diary writing. But the final traces of the medicine haven't quite worn off yet.

So I can still laugh about it. I try not to, but an embarrassed chuckle burns in my throat. 'My apologies. If I'd realised what would happen, I would have locked myself in my room and spared you the grief.'

I can see Licht trying not to crack up. I press my fingers to my mouth and try to tamp down my laughter. 'And I smiled, didn't I? I must have given you all a heart attack.'

'Well, it was disturbing,' Leonhard says. Licht bursts into laughter, and Bruno chokes, at great length. Kai smiles softly. I catch a look in his eyes. Somehow, out of the princes, I think Kai might be the one who understands the most about my work. He was the first prince that I was ever involved in any kind of incident, and he saw me fight first-hand. And he's also trained at military academy.

Wait. _Kai._

'Still,' Leonhard says, blushing, 'I didn't need to go that far. I'm…' He meets my gaze. 'I'm sorry.'

I shake my head, and touch his arm. 'No, _I'm_ sorry. For this whole debacle.'

My papers are scattered all over the floor. 'As much as I'd like to rectify this whole mess, I think it would be better for all parties if we literally resume this once I'm in my right mind.'

'Are you all right, however?' Bruno asks. He still looks a little dazed.

'Oh, quite…' _Positively psychedelic. Puppies and rainbows, and… things._

'Teach? Teach!' Licht panics, as I bury my face in my hands.

I regain my composure. 'No, I'm actually feeling a lot better. Drastic side effects at least yield drastic improvement, so to speak. I'm just not enjoying regaining use of memory, is all.'

'You should rest,' Kai says.

I touch my temples. 'I'll try, but now that the medicine's set in and worked, it seems I'm not tired. Well, I'll see you later on, once I'm certain I've regained full control of my faculties.'

I move to open the door — but someone on the other side beats me to it.

'Heine?'

Viktor stands on the other side. He says, 'I could hear a commotion from the next floor up. Is everything…' He trails off. He raises his eyebrows at my dishevelled state. 'You look like you've been hit by a carriage.'

'At least I don't feel like it, anymore.'

'Are you all right?'

'Yes, quite.' _Positively psychede —_ I slap myself in the face before my mind can continue down that track. Viktor jumps away, startled. That particular episode is probably going to plague me for the rest of my life…

'If you're sure.' Viktor touches his chin, and gives me a wry smile. 'I must say, this brings back memories.'

I glance down. I guess my dishevelled state is more similar to how I used to dress when we first met.

'Hey…' Licht has a wicked grin on his face, and alarm bells toll in my head. 'What was Heine like when you knew him, Dad?'

I raise a hand, warding off the question. 'We're not going to — '

Viktor ignores me. 'He had long hair, for one thing.'

'What?!'

'Like you're one to talk, Prince,' I snap.

'He was even shorter, too,' Viktor says, patting me on the head.

I snatch his wrist. 'Do you wish to _die_?' I don't care if he's the king of the whole kingdom — I can still hurl him over my shoulder and slam him into the polished marble floor if I so desired.

Viktor raises his hands. 'Okay, okay.'

I turn, and lightly punch him in the chest. I may as well be punching a brick wall, he's so solid. 'Behave. Or I'll have to teach you a lesson.'

Viktor raises an eyebrow, and lifts me off the floor by my shirt collar. 'Oh really?'

I move. The next thing he knows, I have him in a head-lock, tightly knotted around his shoulders like a cat. He could crash into the wall and try to knock me loose, but he couldn't even if he tried. I lean forward and snag his gaze. ' _Ja. Oui. Да. Si_. Really.'

He smiles, and his eyes crinkle. I can feel him. His warmth, his solidness, the quick beat of his pulse, and the scent of cologne and paper and metal. Even though we live in the same palace, it's rare. That we can just be us.

We realise that the princes are staring. 'Sorry, it's just…' Leonhard shakes his head. 'We've never seen you… together.' I blink. Oh. That's true. There's definitely curiosity there, for all of them. I glance at Viktor. _Maybe… Maybe I could start laying bare some secrets. But again, it's not just my choice._

All that shared history in the room is loaded in the subtext. And it doesn't feel all together unpleasant. On the contrary, it feels… good.

Viktor gives a guilty laugh and snaps me out of my thoughts. 'Ah, right,' he says. 'Incidentally, we're not always like this.'

I straighten, still holding Viktor at my will. 'No, this is one of our good days.'

' _Heine!_ ' he protests, laughing. I relax my grip, and he reads my movements, taking the opportunity to set me down. 'By the way, I had a bottle of Niedergranzreich white wine…'

'Spare me the usual song and dance. I'll come.'

Then Kai opens his mouth to speak. But he hesitates.

'Prince?'

He shakes his head. 'It can wait. I just remembered… I had something I was going to ask you.'

 _Something to ask?_ 'Feel free to come by my room later, then.'

Licht winks. 'If it's dating advice, Kainie, I can sort you out right now.'

A storm cloud seems to rumble somewhere in Bruno's direction. ' _Licht — '_

Viktor raises an eyebrow, then rests a hand on the small of my back and guides me from the room, leaving the princes to their friendly bickering.

I close my eyes for the briefest second. _He's so nice to me._ Viktor's hand slips into mine, fingers clasping mine. He pulls ahead of me, and we run, and he drags me along in his wake, just like always. My heart aches with the rightness of it. I want things to be like this more often. Maybe I do what I do to help Viktor, thereby helping build this kingdom's future — but maybe I do it purely for him. It changes all the time, but he's always at the centre of it. The dearest friend I have.

Maybe it's selfish to love someone like this, to treasure them, for them to hold such a special place in your heart. Viktor was the first and only person I could ever dare to call mine. I never had anyone else before. I maybe never will again.

Viktor looks back at me with a grin. This hurts, so much and it hurts so good. _God, if this is a sin, then…_ I close my eyes and smile. _Forgive me for being happy._

 _To be continued…_


	34. Purple Bullet III

**~ Heine ~**

I sink into a chair, into the feel of velvet and padding. I'm not tired, but it's as though my body knows I'm accumulating a sleep debt that I'm going to feel once the medication wears off.

'Still want a drink?' Viktor offers.

I shake my head. 'I'll pass. Still, go for it, if you want.'

Viktor pours a shot glass. Like me, he knows he can't afford to cloud his head at times like this. He downs it. Gives me a sideways glance. 'I'm going to take a guess. Were you put on pain medication?'

'I asked for it. A lapse of judgement, but it will keep me stable for a while, now that the side effects have worn off.'

'Should I ask?'

'Definitely not. I'm fine — but if you ordered me here for my conversational wit, I'm afraid you'll find me lacking.'

Viktor snorts. 'If there's one subject under my rule that I don't get to order around, it's you, Heine.'

He gathers up handwritten notes, from the report that I wrote over breakfast at Dr. Dmitri's townhouse this morning. 'You should know that I've already had the two hitmen at the university — and the assassin that targeted you at Dr. Dmitri's townhouse — interrogated.'

'And?'

'The results were less than satisfactory, as with all other parties we've encountered this week. We couldn't even ascertain as to why there were two of them there and only one was shooting — no one _knows_ anything,' he says, and throws the papers down, glaring at them. He gives me a weary smile and covers his eyes with a hand. 'Forgive my sulking, but I'm getting sick of this.'

'Same here. Well…' I wrote my reports before I met up with Duchess Arra. But what I learned from Duchess Arra herself isn't in the reports. 'I went to some sources. Guylian's brother's death was premeditated murder, not self-destruction.'

'I hate to think what you did to get that information. Let me guess: you've requested an autopsy?'

'I have. He's not very high on the morgue's list given how he… supposedly died. But they're working on it now. And I'm offended, by the way. I had that information handed to me on a silver platter.'

'After you went out of your way to hunt down the person holding it.'

I sigh. You just can't win. Then I remember something. '…I can make your day, Viktor. Or ruin it.' He gives me a wary look, and I lower my gaze. 'Can I be cruel for a moment, Viktor?'

'You're never cruel, Heine.'

'Can you tell me about your wife?'

Viktor's fingers twitch. He makes no other movement, but his eyes give him away. They're pained. I can see gears and cogs turning behind the blue crystal. 'Where are you going with this?'

I don't like admitting mistakes, but I need answers. '…I thought your wife was from Fonseine.'

He stares at me, bewildered. 'What made you think that?'

'A misunderstanding. I know little of your wife, as no one speaks of her.' My voice trails off; only as I speak the words aloud do I realise how strange they sound.

I think, wondering how to pose another question, but Viktor's face stops me in my tracks. Deathly blank, eyes rusted and frosted over, like a suit of armour at the bottom of a frozen lake. Then he blinks, and I'm left staring at a king that looks too young for his age. Blond hair spilling over his shoulders like champagne.

He forces a smile. 'I see,' he says. And he tilts his head, waiting for me to speak.

I have to physically find my words. 'But t-that's not what I'm getting at. I received some very telling clues from Duchess Arra.'

'And?'

'From what she said, it sounded as though Fonseine was implicated in some way. She's Fonseinian nobility. She would know. I'm just going to be blunt — is Fonseine trying to assassinate our princes?'

Viktor's expression fades, hidden by the iron mask I've come to be familiar with. 'Well. It would be terrible. If that were the case. Essentially landing us in it, as it were. Fonseine is one of our strongest allies.'

'…From the way the duchess spoke, I drew the conclusion that your wife was connected to this. But I could be wrong.' I say nothing for a minute. 'I won't press the issue, but… Duchess Arra has effectively told us — presumably at great personal risk — that Fonseine is implicated in this. We don't even know if the two things are connected, but if you can think of anything, let me know.'

Viktor runs a hand through his hair, and tangles it into a loose knot. 'I will.' He gives me another smile, and though more tired, it looks more genuine. Faint shadows underline his eyes. He must be exhausted, I realise. I may have naively thought I was taking most of the load, but of course he must be working behind the scenes.

My head is getting clearer and sharper by the moment. Even though the emotional strain the medication put me under is fading, the feelings Viktor and I shared only moments ago — they didn't feel stimulated, they didn't feel fake. But I feel like we're getting dragged down again, dragged apart.

'I'm sorry, Viktor.' But I don't know what for.

'You don't need to be.'

My eyes flicker over his desk… and land on a glass jar. Filled with pills. After a moment, Viktor pushes it aside with one finger.

It's still there, however.

'Are you sick?'

'Such elegant phrasing,' Viktor says dryly. 'With all the grace of a battering ram.'

'Stop deflecting.'

Viktor avoids my gaze, his eyes flickering around the office, before sighing and popping the lid of the jar off. He slips one of the pills between his teeth and dry-swallows it. Now that I've noticed, the faint chalky stains on his gloves seem obvious. As well as the slight grimace he gives when he forces himself to sit up straight. 'It's nothing, truly. It's just stress.'

I raise an eyebrow. 'So running a whole kingdom doesn't qualify as stressful?'

He chuckles. 'Not to the point that I have to be medicated.'

I take one of the pills to check it for myself, but Viktor takes it from my fingertips. 'Don't. I was ill before I took the medication, and I've had it checked. No one would be stupid enough to try and get at me in my own chambers, anyway.'

'You think. Well, I suppose so.'

'And you shouldn't risk complicating whatever… side effects you just had.'

And the tables have hereby turned. I grimace, but let him have his way. 'Just take care of yourself.'

His eyes soften. 'I will. Thank you.'

I look at the portrait by his desk. It's similar to the one in Bruno's cameo pin. 'What was she like?'

Viktor looks at the portrait too. 'She looked a lot like Bruno.'

A knock on the door. Viktor makes to get up, and knocks his knees on the underside of his desk. He winces. 'Yes, what is it?'

'Your Majesty, it's His Highness, Prince Kai.'

'By all means, let him in.'

The doors open, and Kai walks in. I get up. My chair scrapes. 'Prince, is something wrong?'

'N-No, why?'

I gesture. 'Your jacket's done up.'

Kai glances down. 'Oh. Right.'

Viktor smiles, and says, 'I think you know my children better than I do, Heine.' He gets up and crosses the room to Kai. 'Still, is everything all right?'

'I was going to come… and talk to Professor Heine later but… I realised I better tell both of you about this.' Kai toys with his gloves, and swallows, looking at the carpet, before lifting his gaze. 'I-It's about Beatrix.'

My mind blanks for a minute. 'Beatrix… von Lothringen? Your fiancee?'

Beatrix: a strong young woman; Kai's fiancee at the age of only seventeen. Charming, gallant, and boyish too, to the point that she sometimes wears men's clothes. She and Kai aren't exactly enamoured lovebirds, but they've always got on well as childhood friends. So I can't imagine what the problem is.

'I-I…' Kai seems to be having even more trouble verbalising than usual. 'It's a date. I said I'd take her on a date.' He exhales and relaxes, now that he's finally gotten the words out.

My mouth falls open. 'Is this Prince Kai? Are we sure he's not an imposter?'

'Heine,' Viktor chides, and turns back to Kai. 'That's wonderful, but I don't quite understand why — '

'T-Tonight. It's tonight.'

Everything snaps into place. Tonight. This week. Following hot on the heels of three consecutive disasters, and Prince Kai is the last unscathed prince on that list. And judging by the look on his face, he knows it.

'So what do you want to do? Cancel? You can always take her out once things have calmed down,' I say.

Kai looks unsure, and… embarrassed. 'I think that would be best… but… It's for her birthday. I asked Licht what I should give her and he said I should take her on a… date.'

'Well — does she know, or is it a surprise?'

'No, she knows. And… I think she's really excited. I gave her the invitation in person, and I thought she was happy, but when I left she was dancing around her room and singing. The curtains were open,' he explains. 'I don't think she knew I could see her.'

Viktor and I avoid looking at each other. 'Yes, probably not.'

'So I don't want to let her down, but… The last thing I want is to get her caught up in this.'

And we all know what he means by _this_.

Viktor sighs. 'The wisest course of action will be to cancel. I know Beatrice, and I think she's the kind of girl that will value your honesty and concern for her more than an elaborate evening or an expensive gift.'

Kai nods. 'Nnh.'

I cross my arms. 'May I say something?'

'You'll say it anyway, Heine.'

'Something completely cold?'

That gets their attention. I straighten my glasses. 'This is going to sound callous, but this is from a strategic point of view only. And ignoring who the parties in question actually are.'

'And?'

'It's glaringly obvious that Kai will be the next to be targeted. So if you wanted to end this now, turn this into a military operation and bait the person behind this into the open.'

'Use Kai and Beatrice as… bait,' Viktor says.

'I know. It's completely cold. But I'm looking at this objectively. If it were Leonhard or Licht, it wouldn't even cross my mind. It's the fact that Kai has military training that triggered my line of thought.'

Viktor glares at me, then sighs and rubs his forehead. 'That scenario already crossed my mind, and don't pretend you don't know that. But besides, I thought you didn't want to involve the princes.'

'I don't. But Kai's already being targeted. If we can't change that, then we should use it.' But as tempting as it is, to launch a huge operation and bring this thing crashing down, we can't do it. He's Viktor's son; my student. He's only seventeen and what kind of adults would we be to place him in harm's way like that?

'I'll do it.'

Viktor and I both start.

'I'll do it,' Kai repeats.

'Son, no.' Viktor grips Kai's shoulders. 'You will not. Not when it's practically guaranteed that you'll be in danger.'

'But I want to help.'

'You can help by doing what is in your and Beatrix's best interests, which is staying safe.'

Kai's eyes flash. I never realised, but he may be taller than even Viktor now. 'But they'll just find another way to target me.' Viktor's grip tightens. 'I know what happened to Licht. To Bruno. I was there with Leonhard.' Kai stands straight, shoulders back. 'If we just cancel today, then someone will just try to kill me in the palace.'

'Kai, no, we can — '

'He's right.' My words shock Viktor. It takes him a second to change focus to me. 'The palace isn't a secure location. We've been compromised at other locations, but here as well.'

The unspoken suspicion hangs in the air. The suspicion that someone may be pulling strings in the palace.

Kai looks as though he can't believe I'm backing him up on this. He tentatively continues. 'And I want this to stop. I'm… furious, that my brothers got hurt. If I can do something, I want to.'

Viktor turns on me. 'This isn't happening. You can't be serious, Heine.'

I avoid his gaze, then meet it. 'Kai is right, but I'm also being selfish. Think about it like this. When you load a clip into a gun, you have a certain amount of bullets. You use them one by one, then you run out.' I give a tired smile. 'I'm running out of bullets. I can only do so much before I'm completely wrecked. I might have one more bullet, maybe two, but then I'll start making mistakes. I won't be running at full capacity. I'd like a perfect window to shut this thing down, but that's me being selfish. It's not worth risking Prince Kai's safety for that.'

'Then we should do it.' Kai's eyes burn hot. 'We've got a chance, and we can't waste it. You can stop this now, and I can get you the window to do it.'

'But Kai — '

'Papa,' Kai says softly. He hesitates, before loosening Viktor's fingers and taking his father's hands in his. 'Please. I want to do it. If I want to be a candidate for the throne, I can't just stay safe in the palace forever. You were fighting wars at my age. I know you want to keep me safe, but… I want to do this. Please.'

Viktor rests his hands on Kai's shoulders, and sighs, Kai's resolute expression forcing a reluctant smile out of him. 'Then I can't stop you. I can only tell you that this isn't the only solution to the problem.'

Kai locks his fingers into a fist. 'But it's our best shot. So let's take it while we can.'

'I hate to break up this charming moment, but I have to interrupt.' I hold up a finger. 'Beatrix.'

'Ah.' Viktor and Kai say.

'While I'm looking forward to the fireworks this evening, she may not be as thrilled about this idea as you are, or the idea of her boyfriend throwing himself into mortal peril.'

'Then… I'll talk to her.'

My eyebrows lift.

'I don't want to put her in danger. I'll… talk to her about it. I don't know what we'll do, but we'll work something out.'

'I'm proud of you, prince. Excellent communication.'

Viktor's still looking tense, and biting the tip of one gloved finger. Kai looks at him questioningly, and Viktor heaves a sigh. 'I don't really know if we should do this. It was one thing when there was no set pattern. When we didn't have a grasp of the risk. That's why we let Licht attend the gala, and let Bruno attend his conference — because we didn't realise that the incidents were connected at the time. Now I can't send you off with a clean conscience.'

'But you also know this, Viktor,' I say. 'You know that I've managed get each of the princes through their respective ordeals. Just because we now know what we're dealing with, that doesn't make me any less effective.'

Viktor doesn't look at me right away. Instead, he touches the dress sword hanging at his side, and rests his fingers on the hilt. And that's when I realise I need to be worrying on a whole other front.

'You're right,' he says. 'In that case, we should start moving now. If things are going to go down this evening: that only gives us a couple of hours to set the stage.' He pulls on his overcoat, drops a quick kiss on Kai's forehead, and strides to the door. 'I'm going to call a meeting of the generals. And one last thing.'

He leans out the door, and gestures. A moment later, two people enter the room, out of breath, as though they sprinted from the other end of the corridor. I blink in surprise. Two guards — one with close-cropped blonde hair, and the other with a wild tangle of reddish curls.

'I want you to take Ludwig and Maximilian with you.'

I pretend to be miffed. 'I should be offended, Your Majesty.'

'We have other guards for the princes,' Viktor says. 'I want you to have the extra detail.'

I shrug, and say, 'Just don't compromise the other princes' safety. We don't want it coming back to bite us later.'

Maximilian swaps his halberd to his other hand, looking uncertain. 'Uh, happy to be of service, Your Majesty — but could I ask what exactly it is we're going to be doing?'

Ludwig sharply backhands him in the neck. 'I'm not going to say it again, you can't be so informal —'

Viktor shakes his head and smiles. 'My apolgies — it's nothing much, just accompanying Kai and Beatrice on a date, is all.'

'A _date?!_ ' Maximilian grins. 'Congrats, Prince — leave it to us.'

Ludwig sighs. 'Yes, of course. At your service, Your Majesty.'

While this seems to be going relatively well, Viktor still has his hand on his sword, and I'm still waiting for him to say something I think I won't like. 'You know I'm going to be leaving the country late tonight,' Viktor says, looking at each of us in turn. 'As much as I'd rather put this trip off until we've got the matter at hand under control, diplomacy won't allow it.'

After everything that's happened this week, I'd forgotten about Viktor leaving Glanzreich. It's truly the worst possible timing for it.

'It's not negotiable?' I ask.

'No, I'm afraid not. I've been invited to attend a political summit and the host country has sent a ship to a harbour in one of our territories, to escort me personally. We can't reschedule, as the ship's already arrived.'

It seems that diplomatics can be somewhat of a pain in the you-know-what.

Then it hits me, all too late, that Viktor was leading into something; his eyes glint, and a chill shoots down my spine. 'So I'll be there tonight to oversee things.'

'You've got to be out of your d_ed mind,' I say, too shocked to be polite.

Viktor raises an eyebrow. 'You know full well that the king is the commander-in-chief of all armed forces. Where do you think I earned my reputation as the war king? It wasn't from the comfort of my desk, to say the least.'

I push my glasses up. My hackles are well and truly raised. 'The last thing we need is you getting in the firing line, Your Majesty.'

'On the contrary. Like you said, we essentially have one chance. And that goes for me as well as you. If Kai's stepping up, then I owe it to him to do my part.'

I can tell from the set of his spine that I can't sway him on this one. He feels that he needs to put himself on the line if he's asking his son to do the same, and he's not wrong.

I can't take my eyes off that sword. I know first-hand what a terror Viktor can be when he's unleashed on the battlefield. And that in itself is terrifying.

 _Viktor —_

He smiles, and steps out the door. 'See you, Heine.' The smile vanishes. 'I'll hold a meeting of state. Expect a telegram of our plans when you get to the Lothringens.' And he's gone.

Maximilian whistles. 'Golly.'

Kai and I turn to each other. 'How were you planning on meeting up with Beatrix?'

'I was going to pick her up. Carriage.'

'Then let's go. Earlier the better.'

And we run for the door.

Somehow, I don't think this is on Licht's infamous list of top ten date nights.

 _To be continued…_


	35. Purple Bullet IV

**~ Heine ~**

Our carriage makes its way through the streets of Wienner. Kai and I are dressed for this evening — him in an elegant black suit, and myself in a worn charcoal-grey one that I had to dig out of the bottom of my wardrobe. I'm still wearing my holsters, and I realise that I slipped my teacher's pointer into my clothes out of habit. As least it's small. Undoubtedly, Kai is the better looking between the two of us. The white of his gloves and his hair shimmers against the black fabric.

'Forgive me for asking, Prince, but would there happen to be a particular reason your hair is white?'

Kai tilts his head, and fingers the roughly cut locks at the base of his neck. '…I don't really know. It's been like this… as long as I can remember. Maybe I hit my head as a child?'

Maximilian and Ludwig are also in the carriage with us, dressed in formal wear as opposed to their guard uniforms. With trained eyes, you can pick the outlines of holsters beneath well-cut suits.

Kai toys with his gloves. He looks stressed. 'Do you… really think Beatrix won't mind? About this?'

'She shouldn't — ' The carriage jolts over a rut and it knocks me right off my seat and throws me across the carriage.

Kai catches me, strong arms around my shoulders. 'All right, Teacher?'

Maximilian splutters, trying not to laugh. I grimace and sit beside Kai. 'Yes. Too small to stay anchored, it seems.' To alleviate Kai's stress, I offer him my hand, for comfort, and he rubs my palm with his thumb. The motion and the turning of the wheels blur together.

We've left Wienner, and it's only a few minutes until we're rolling up the driveway of the von Lothringens' country manor. We pull around the circular paved driveway and step out of the carriage. I cast my eyes over the stone and marble house, and its gardens. 'Have you been here before?'

Kai nods. 'A couple of times.'

Ludwig opens the carriage door. 'Maximilian, stand guard outside.'

'What — _why me?!_ '

'Because the last time you accompanied these two into a building, all three of you were kidnapped and held to ransom!' Ludwig snaps. 'We're not having a repeat performance, understood?'

 _Ah, that's right, isn't it?_ Maximilian rolls his eyes, and nods. 'Roger.'

Kai, Ludwig, and myself walk up the steps to the door, and knock. After a moment, a servant opens the door for us and announces to the residents. 'His Highness Prince Kai von Glanzreich, and Herr Wittgenstein, the Royal Tutor, and Herr Steiner.'

We wait inside the open doors. Each piece of furniture is chosen with taste, and open corridors lead off to rooms with Fonseinian windows, which gives the house an airy feel. Ludwig stands at a distance, effectively blending into the background.

After a moment, a female figure descends the steps. And I realise, and the obviousness of it stuns me. Viktor's wife and Beatrix's mother must have been sisters. They look so similar, and their children are cousins, after all.

Mrs. von Lothringen approaches — poise and smiles, the perfect hostess and an older mirror of her daughter. 'Why, Kai — what a pleasure! Aren't you rather early?'

'I… wanted to see Beatrice.'

At that, the maids pretending to mind their own business stifle a squeal, and even the stoic butler that announced us clenches a fist in victory. Kai manages to miss all of it. A rather impressive feat.

Beatrix's mother smiles and gestures for us to follow her. 'That's lovely. She's still getting ready, however, so would you care to join me for tea while you wait?'

Kai nods, and I say, 'A pleasure.'

We follow her to a sitting room, and we sit on opposite settees. A maid places a tea tray on the table, pours the tea, and buzzes out again.

'Two sugars, Kai?' Mrs. Von Lothringen asks.

Kai nods, and takes the cup she passes over. 'Thank you.'

'Herr Wittgenstein?' I bring my attention from my surroundings to the matter at hand.

'Straight black, please. Thank you.' I breathe in the steam and muddied scent, and take a sip.

'I apologise for keeping you waiting. Beatrice is probably getting ready now,' Mrs. von Lothringen says, glancing at the ceiling.

Kai gestures, protesting. 'No, we're early — '

'She's been beside herself with excitement. She was thrilled to bits.'

I decide to keep my mouth shut and stay out of the conversation. I get the sense that Mrs. von Lothringen is rather domineering, albeit nice, I suppose. Beatrix obviously comes from a family of strong women.

Mrs. von Lothringen obviously won't let the ball drop in her court, so she makes some blithe remark about the weather, earning a nod from Kai and a comment on the fluffiness of the clouds. Yes, I'm not getting involved in this one. Before we have to go through the routine of complementing their manor's grounds, however, running footsteps interrupt us.

The door swings open and Beatrix strides in, dressed in her usual dapper attire, blonde hair curling around her waist and half a wardrobe of clothes in her arms. 'Mother, what do I even wear?!'

She completely misses the fact that Kai and myself are in the room.

'Well, dear, I — '

Beatrix holds up a shockingly ornate number that looks as though she stole it from a museum. Ropes of pearls and crystals hold the whole contraption together. 'I can't wear this — it will look like I'm throwing myself at him!' She holds up a starkly funereal mourning gown. 'And why do I even have this?!'

She throws up her hands, scattering garments left and right. 'Do I even wear a dress?! He just said _a date —_ is this meant to be casual or formal, or what?' She tangles her fingers in her hair and nearly tears her pretty blonde locks out. 'What do I _do?_ '

Kai tentatively raises a hand and the wind goes right out of Beatrix's sails. She stands, frozen, with her varying ensembles clutched in her fingers.

'Oh. Kai. Um… Hello,' she manages. She snaps out of it and flushes violently. 'A-Ah… I'm not even ready! Am I late — ' she whirls around to her mother, ' — is my clock wrong? Is it daylight savings? Am I _losing it_?'

I can see dizzy rings spinning around her head. Kai gets up, and walks over. He picks through the dresses hanging from her hand. '…I like this one.' He holds up a sapphire blue gown up to Beatrix, and she drops all her items with a clatter.

She gives him a wary grin. 'What, really?'

'It looks pretty.' Kai brushes a strand of hair from her eyes. 'And you're pretty.'

Beatrix's face glows scarlet. 'T-Thanks.'

Kai reaches into the depths of his coat, and pulls out a loosely tied bouquet of flowers, pressing them into her free hand. 'I got these for you… sorry they're a little… squashed. Happy birthday.'

Beatrix's eyes widen to saucers. She buries her face in the scent and breathes it in. 'Oh, Kai…' She straightens the dress of choice on its hanger, and smiles, and pivots on her heel. 'Well, I'll be quick,' she says with a laugh, 'but I didn't think you'd be this early…'

I stand. 'Lady Beatrix.'

She startles. She looks over Kai's shoulder and catches sight of me. 'Oh, Professor Heine. What are you doing here?' My expression must be speaking volumes, because the room ices over into a frozen lull.

Party dresses and conversations about the weather suddenly feel very far away.

Kai rubs his shoulder, before choosing the right words. 'Beatrix, something… happened. Several things… actually. I need to tell you about it. '

Beatrice suddenly looks a lot less poised. An unbalanced mannequin, with the blue satin dress piled in her arms. 'What do you mean? Is this about you returning to military academy?' Fabric grates between her fingers. 'Did you get hurt?'

I see that Mrs. von Lothringen is looking a little temperamental over in her corner. I rest a hand on Kai's arm. We don't have time for that, so I'll take over. He's done his part, and more.

'No. It's not about military academy. It's the fact that Kai _hasn't_ been hurt yet that's the problem.'

I can see Beatrix's heart sinking in her chest. 'What do you mean?'

I straighten my glasses. 'Over the past week, there's been a planned series of attacks on the princes. Kai is the only one that hasn't been targeted as of yet. It's almost guaranteed that it will go down tonight.'

'Attack — what do you mean _attack_? What happened?' Beatrix's shoulders prickle. This isn't just about the kingdom's princes for her — the princes are her family, her friends.

I tick them off on my fingers. 'Leonhard was assaulted. Licht was poisoned. Bruno was shot at and nearly stabbed.' Each blow makes her flinch. 'I was asked to help look out for the princes, so I've been involved with all three cases. We're making headway but in a limited fashion. We think another country is responsible. Kai, Viktor, and I all agreed on a plan that involves using Kai to bait our target into a military setup, but there's a problem. You.'

She blinks, distracted from her shock. 'W-Why me?'

Kai takes her hand. 'Bea… I don't want you to get hurt. I'm sorry. I don't want to let you down, but… I don't want you to be in danger. I'll take you out again. I promise.'

Beatrix closes her eyes. She exhales. 'So what will you be doing tonight, then?'

'…Bea?'

'What will you be _doing_ , Kai?'

Kai looks stressed. 'I'm part of the military operation, so I — '

'So you're going to put _your_ neck on the line while I stay in my tower like a princess? I don't think so!'

'Bea, wait — ' Kai tries to placate her — I have a feeling that Beatrix's mother might be the reason why — but she's not having it.

She steps forward, close enough that their noses nearly touch. 'I'm already furious that you're throwing yourself under the carriage like this. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't come.'

Kai stands frozen, hands up in an awkward surrender, practically holding his breath to avoid further provocation. He glances at me, pleading for backup.

I shrug. 'Including Beatrice was always an option all along. It was just extremely unlikely.'

Beatrice reaches up, and touches Kai's jaw. His eyes snap back to her. 'I _am_ your fiancee, you know,' Beatrice mutters, a faint blush marking her cheeks. 'I want to be by your side for this kind of thing.'

Kai places a hand on her waist, his expression painfully torn. 'It's going to be dangerous. I was there… when Leonhard… So I know…'

'Me too.' She cups his face in her hands. His eyes widen. 'We're family, Kai. I'm just as mad as you are. So let's do something about it. We get our date, everyone else gets their revenge. Happy endings.' She smirks, he smiles, and crushes her in an embrace, her fingers in his hair, his hands squeezing her shoulder blades. They're embarrassingly perfect.

'It will be the perfect cover,' I say. 'No one will guess that the game has changed.'

They break apart, just the barest amount. Beatrix glances at her piled wardrobe on the floor. 'Do I need to rethink my outfit?'

I raise an eyebrow. 'Do you have any weapons?'

'Stop!' Mrs. von Lothringen is on her feet and sparks are zapping. 'Everyone stop right this instant!'

Beatrix cuts her a look. 'We're not discussing this, Mother. Drink your tea.'

' _Beatr —_ '

'You should be happy for me, Mother. As I've looked forward to this _so much?'_

Mrs. von Lothringen snaps her mouth shut. By _I,_ I imagine that Beatrix means _we._ And I'm sure Mrs. von Lothringen is possibly even more excited than her daughter about the prospect of Kai and Beatrix's relationship progressing, if the enthusiasm of the maids and staff was anything to go by.

'Have a nice evening, dear,' Mrs. von Lothringen manages, before excusing herself and walking out.

Whether she's finding some vacant floor space to faint on or not, that would depend on her strength of character, I believe.

But I must admit, I'm curious now.

Because despite shutting her mouth, the queen's sister's eyes were anything but silent.

 _To be continued…_


	36. Purple Bullet V

**~ Heine ~**

As Beatrix ascends the steps, I lean against the wall in an alcove, reading the missive that one of Viktor's footmen delivered. It's characterised by a brutal attention to detail. Virtually all divisions of the armed forces are going to be involved, all surrounding the centre of Wienner, spiralling out in a radius. A spider web, a rifle sight. An epicentre.

This is bigger than I ever expected. This whole scenario is. As much as I don't want to believe it, this is bigger than me. This is empires clashing. This is downright nerve-wracking.

At the bottom of the neatly written dossier is a hand-scrawled note in the margins. _I know, Heine. But I'll back you up. Me and the whole kingdom. Even if we have all the king's horses, and all the king's men, I want you on this._

I press the papers to my chest. I smirk, swallowing the emotion in my throat. It's true that Viktor is a warrior and a feared one at that, known throughout all of Europe.

But I was the one who taught him how to fight.

I slip the sheets beneath my waistcoat, letting Viktor's handwriting warm my skin. I slip out of the shadows — only to come face to face with Mrs. von Lothringen.

'We need to talk.' She stands, a rock-solid statue, with gilded portraits of her ancestors in the background. 'Beatrix is a _girl_. You're dragging her into fighting and soldiers and — '

I adjust my glasses, watching her through the metal frames and two fingers. Perhaps Duchess Arra has been rubbing off on me, but I would like to think I'm the last person to evaluate someone by appearance.

'You're arguing on the basis that Beatrix is a woman?' I step to her side, and we both look at the wall of portraits. 'What's wrong with that?'

'No. Beatrix has always been… an unconventional girl. But you're actively putting her in harm's way.' Her voice drops. Prying, searching. Testing. 'Isn't it a man's job to take care of these matters?'

'Perhaps. Yet why shouldn't she choose to help if she wishes?' I glance at her. She looks back. I have the feeling that she may have been the elder of the sisters. I push my glasses up. 'I understand. You're concerned for your daughter — that's only natural. If you think that she shouldn't go, then just tell her not to go. It's not as though she has to come.'

'Well-crafted words, as one would expect from a royal educator. I can't believe that I'm taking this seriously.'

'All the rest of us are. Would you care to join us?'

She does not miss my jab for an instant. Her eyes flicker to a portrait. The one of her sister.

'I suppose you think that as the military presence in the city will be strong, then she won't be in danger,' she says.

'I don't think that. There will be danger. But that's her choice, and she seems to want to do it.'

'Why are you pushing so hard for this?'

I lightly shrug my shoulders. 'I confess, I have a contrary nature. I like a challenge.'

Her skirts sweep the floor. 'Then here's a challenge for you, young man. Bring them back safely.' She tips her head. Her eyes and jewels glint. 'I want to see them live long enough to marry, you know,'

I nod, and say, 'As you wish, my lady. Although, I must confess — I'm not particularly young.'

She tips my head up with gloved fingers. Her breath is deceptively soft against my neck: a sugared puff of air that hides the metal of gleaming fangs. 'My dear, for all your talents — you know nothing of the ways of court. If someone goes to the trouble and effort of creating your lies for you… don't correct them.'

A depth of wit and intellect lies behind her charming facade. She played me like a deck of cards.

'As you wish.'

She lets me go and takes her leave. 'It seems I have been outmatched. By my stubborn daughter and a little professor.'

 _No. You merely satisfied yourself that you could entrust your daughter to my care._

I ascend the staircase, watching her walk away for a moment, then look up the spiralling cavity of wallpaper and portraits. While Kai may be ready for this, I need to check if Beatrix is on the same page. I walk down the corridor and take a guess at which room is Beatrix's. I rap on the door.

'Come in,' she yells.

I step in and close the door behind me. 'I apologise for the interruption, Lady Bea — '

I blink. She's wearing a daringly-cut corset, a petticoat, a horrified expression, and not much else. It takes me a moment to gather my wits.

I turn my back to her and cover my eyes for good measure. I'm expecting to die of blunt force trauma at any given moment. 'My apologies, Lady Beatrix, but you told me to come in.'

'I-I thought you were one of the maids.'

An awkward pause. 'Obviously not.'

I hear a rustle of fabric. I'm guessing that she's stepped behind a changing screen. 'Your knock sounded almost exactly the same.'

'I'm sure.' It seems to be that employees of a place and the residents thereof have differing methods of knocking. I would know, as I work at a palace.

'Let's just forget that happened,' Beatrix says wearily. I hear the swish and crumple of fabric, the frustrated clicking of fasteners. '…Look, I know this isn't the best of circumstances, but you're already here. Mind helping me with this?'

'Shouldn't I call someone… else?' I risk looking at her, my eyes strictly on her face, to see her wave a hand in refusal.

'No. If I have to speak to my mother, she'll feel the need to discuss this matter at length. So please?'

I walk over, eyes flicking over the room — the walls, the ceiling, the windows — but from the blue in the corners of my vision, I can see she's already wearing the dress.

It's beautiful. A floor-length gown, with layer after layer of tulle and silk billowing into a perfect shape, and a tiny bodice that hugs her waist and figure. She points a finger behind her back. The back of the dress is fastened with dozens of minuscule clasps, designed to give a beautiful finish.

I start fastening the clasps, working my way slowly from the small of her back upwards. The actual gown leaves the shoulder blades bare, but it's still a monumental task.

Beatrix fiddles with her hair. 'So… did you want to talk to me?'

'Yes.' I pinch and adjust the material of the bodice. The dress must have been custom-made by a master tailor. It's stunningly intricate. 'I wanted to check that you're actually all right with this.'

Beatrice exhales. I feel the movement through the close-fitting fabric. 'Yes. I wasn't just saying it. And I wasn't just rebelling because Kai was trying to tell me not to come. I want to help. I know there's risk, but… They're my family. And it's Kai. If I can help, then I want to. Is that unreasonable?'

'No. Not at all. It's not conventional, but those are two different things. And you'll make a great difference. It will be incredibly convincing to everyone watching if you and Kai follow your original plans.'

'…I know I just said that I knew there was risk, but… We're not going to die, are we?'

The sheer bravado it must be taking for her to say that. I fasten the final clasp.

'We'll be fine? In the end?'

'Yes. If anything, I've only improved on my success rate. And I didn't have the entirety of Glanzreich's armed forces at our disposal prior to this, either.'

'Good gracious.' Like myself, I doubt Beatrix was aware of the scale on which we now operate.

'Quite. His Majesty Himself is going to be overseeing the operation.' I can feel her surprise through the fabric, at the words.

I pat Beatrice on the shoulder, and she turns around, holding her hands above the cloud of blue finery.

'Thank you.' Her face flickers. 'Can I ask, however… why are you so involved in this? I thought the princes had guards.'

I cough. 'I have a… varied skill set, I guess you could say.'

'Don't we all.' Beatrice takes a seat in front of her boudoir. Perfumes and powders are scattered over the glass counter, coated in a thin layer of dust. She applies powder, perfume, lip colour, and mascara, and things I don't even recognise, hesitating between each choice. I know she doesn't see herself as being very feminine, so the layer of dust over her makeup makes sense. It's like her, too, to be self-sufficient and not need a maid to help her.

She braids and loops and compresses her hair into an up-do that neatly crowns her head, then gets up.

'Well, time for finishing touches, I guess?' she says, stepping past me.

'Do you want me to loan you a gun?'

She splutters, and has to clear her throat. 'I-I'll pass, thank you.' She takes a silver gift box from her bed, and opens it. Sparkling light seeps from the crystal jewellery. It all must be worth hundreds upon hundreds of florins.

Her eyes soften. 'A birthday present, from my father. He's away a lot on business, so he's always buying me expensive presents to make up for it.' She shakes her head, and smiles. 'I keep trying to tell him not to.'

A gallant young woman. A strong mother. An overworked, doting father. My chest tightens — because I don't want to do anything to ruin this.

Beatrice carefully fastens the earrings in place while looking in a mirror, and slides the hair ornaments into her hair.

'One moment.' I open the door and lean out. Ludwig is standing at attention outside, a little further down.

'Ludwig?'

His shoulders jerk, and he catches sight of me. 'Ah, Herr Wittgenstein?'

'Where's the prince?'

Ludwig gestures with a thumb at the door he's standing opposite to. 'Bathroom. Couldn't exactly follow him in.'

Beatrix coughs behind me. 'Ah, yes, quite,' I say. 'Can you give me that spare leg holster and pistol you've got? Don't give me that look; I can tell by the way you walk.'

Ludwig grimaces, and unbuttons his long coat, before drawing his leg up and unbuckling the straps. He tosses it to me and I catch it with one hand. 'Lovely. Thanks.'

I step back into Beatrix's room and close the door. I hold up the gun and holster. 'I imagine you know how to shoot?'

Beatrix looks slightly terrified, but she manages a comeback. 'If you have my cousins, you learn how to do everything. I even used to spar with Leonhard.'

I untangle the straps and mimic how you strap it on. 'Then you shouldn't have any problems. Strap it on underneath your dress.' It's expensive leather, it shouldn't chafe.

I place it in Beatrix's hands, and she disappears behind the changing screen. For all her casualness, she's hardly going to hike her skirt up in front of in front of a man. At least, I don't think so.

Beatrix reappears. To my surprise, she walks practically as normal. 'Isn't it too obvious? Someone's going to notice, I'm sure of it — '

'Not under those two thousand layers of fabric, they're not.'

Beatrix's lips twitch. 'I should be more put off by this, but…'

I know the feeling. It's intoxicatingly daring, being armed and dangerous. 'It's entertaining, if nothing else, no?'

Beatrix practices a few steps, then lifts the necklace from its nest of velvet and drapes it over her shoulders. The crystals shimmer on her bare skin. She fiddles with the clasp. I stand on a chair, and fasten the links. The mirror frames the two of us. 'I'm sure you'd rather hear this from Kai, but… You look lovely.'

Beatrix turns. The chair places me on the same eye level as her. 'Thank you. Care to take me up on a dance later? I want to at least make this worth your trouble,' she says, taking my fingers in a handshake.

I flinch, then explain it away as Beatrix laughs. 'That's not… You're already engaged. I shouldn't — '

'It wouldn't matter if I was _married_.' She laughs dryly. 'I'd still be called on to share my attentions.'

I don't think I've ever felt this uncomfortable. 'Lady Beatrix, I'm afraid you're signing yourself up for sore feet. My…' I grit my teeth. 'My… height.'

'I've danced with all my cousins and three of them are younger than me. Besides.' She offers her hand, and helps me down from the chair. This rather feels like role-reversal. 'I imagine someone with your skill set surely knows how to dance.'

I give her an unimpressed look. 'Well played, Lady Beatrix. I surrender. If circumstances permit, I would be honoured.'

She smiles, pleased with her victory.

Her hands only shake ever so slightly in her embroidered gloves. I take her hand in mine.

'Then shall we go?'

We open the door and step out. Kai and Ludwig stop talking. Kai's eyes widen. Even Ludwig raises an eyebrow slightly. They're so distracted by Beatrix's loveliness that they don't even think to notice that I was in her room while she was getting dressed.

Beatrix squeezes my hand, before letting it go and touching the crystals at her neck. 'So what are we going to be doing?' Because this is still a date, obviously, despite all the trimmings.

Kai slips a sheet of paper from his pocket. 'Well… Do you like surprises?'

Plans are written on the paper. Ones I've already seen, because Viktor's plans are based on them. Overlay one on top of the other, and they combine to become a constructed disaster on wheels.

We all look at each other. Viktor's message burns against my skin. 'Shall we be off?'

 _To be continued…_


	37. Purple Bullet VI

**~ Kai ~**

I've held hands with Beatrix before. She'd pull me along and I'd follow. But now we can't run, either to or away. We have to perform. And holding her hand feels different now.

We sit in the carriage, her hand in mine. It's meant to be a date… but having three armed guards sitting opposite us is distracting, just a little bit.

Heine folds the plans — the message sent from my father — and sharply creases the folds with his fingernails. And it's worse to know, than to not know.

Beatrix swallows. The jewels draped over her shoulders shift, and glint. 'So, in summary… We just have to play our parts and pretend as though we know nothing about the hundreds of soldiers scattered all through Wienner.'

Heine adjusts his glasses. 'Yes. I hope you're a good actress.'

When you're touching someone, you can feel everything about them. Their skin, their softness, the tightening of their fingers — everything telling you this is another person, that they're real. Beatrix's fingers slip between the joints of mine, tightening around my knuckles.

'I don't know. It's not something I pride myself on,' Beatrix says.

Heine gestures, at himself and Ludwig, and Maximilian. 'It's not like we pride ourselves on this, either.' _This_ being the holsters strapped beneath their suits. 'This is just our job.' His knife-edge sharp eyes soften, just a fraction. 'And tonight, you have a job too. So let's do our best.'

I nod. Beatrix steels herself, and nods, fists tightly clenched. Like when she sparred with Leonhard for the first time. Like the time she hosted a royal event on behalf of her family. Like the time she had to take a leap with an out-of-control horse.

I look out the window. My eyes keep picking out soldiers, whether in plain clothes, or in uniform. Blending in at cafes, taking up positions on rooftops, weaving through the crowds on the streets.

Heine glances at the note, yet not long enough to read it. 'So. First up is the opera. I hope someone packed opera glasses.'

Beatrix now knows my plans, and at least… They seemed to make her happy. I'm glad.

And besides. I feel it, that shortness of breath, the tightening of my shoulders.

I don't think there's going to be any lack of surprises tonight.

 _To be continued…_


	38. Purple Bullet VII

**~ Heine ~**

Opera. Not known for being entertainment for nobles. It's more popular among commoners. But Beatrix has always brought the princes down to earth from their self-entitled ideas, and she and Kai have that similar attitude in common.

We step out of the carriage. I don't need to remind Maximilian and Ludwig to pay attention, as we follow Kai and Beatrix, surrounding them, as we ascend the steps to the public opera house through the crowds of heat and noise.

Golden light spills from between the pillars, and Beatrix fairly glides over the marble on Kai's arm. In that stunning dress and jewellery, it's almost as though she's asking to be targeted.

 _But what do I do? Tell a girl not to be so beautiful?_

We queue for our tickets, in lines cut by heavy velvet cordons. A roar of conversation rustles around us, rising to the carved, hand-sculpted ceiling. Maximilian stifles a yawn. Probably not his idea of a good evening. I move to step on his foot, but he quickly dodges out of the way. Alert, at least.

As Kai and Beatrix collect their tickets, with charming smiles, I notice that they're making everyone around them smile too. To be young and in love. Maximilian, Ludwig, and I collect our tickets as well. Kai and Beatrix pause in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by lights, and noise, yet it seems like they're the only two people in the world.

'No effort spared, boys,' I say under my breath. 'They deserve it.'

Maximilian sticks his tongue out, and grins. 'You don't have to tell us. Heh, they're cute, aren't they, Luddy?'

'I've told you not to call me that,' Ludwig grumbles. We follow close behind, following Beatrix's glitter into the dark. 'And yes, they are, but what of it?'

Maximilian looks at me and heaves a sigh. 'And to think we wonder why he doesn't have a girlfriend?'

Ludwig groans, but doesn't engage. The spotlights in the theatre bathe the orchestra in expectation and dust motes. As my eyes adjust, I realise this is even bigger than the university auditoriums, filled with hundreds of seats, and the rustle of programmes and whispers. Soldiers are in the audience, and behind the scenes — stagehands on their first job.

I fall behind, scanning the rows of seats as Kai and Beatrix follow a theatre attendant to their box seats, the ones reserved exclusively for the rare occasion that nobility deems to grace the theatre with their presence. Yet they waited in line for tickets like anyone else. I smile. _They are cute._

I follow after them, ascending the narrow, tiny staircase to the box. I pass the attendant as he leaves and close the door to the box behind myself. Thick golden curtains frame our view, draped around six plush, red-velvet seats. Beatrix and Kai are framed by their guards on either side. Beatrix takes a pair of opera glasses from her purse, and Maximilian leans over the edge. 'Golly, you can actually see the stage. An upgrade from third-grade seats, for sure.' He grins at Beatrix. 'Maybe I'll actually stay awake.'

She laughs, a clear, crystal laugh, and Ludwig hauls Maximilian down by a fistful of his coat. 'That's enough of that. And you'll stay awake even if I've got to throw a bucket of water over your head, so don't make me.'

We all take our seats. 'And where would you get a bucket of water from, exactly?'

I look around the box. A silver bucket of Don Moét champagne chills on a standing table.

Everyone spots the it, and Maximilian raises an eyebrow. 'Well, if I'm gonna go down, it may as well be by melted alpine ice water.'

Everyone laughs, then an awkward pause follows as we weigh up whether we should actually partake of the drinks on offer.

Beatrix sips her iced water. Kai shakes his head and I do the same. Ludwig doesn't give it a second glance, and Maximilian shrugs. 'I don't normally turn down bubbles, but I'll be a gentleman this once.'

Ludwig scoffs, a deep noise in his chest. 'You mean you can't stand the refined flavour of champagne, and prefer the taste of läger, even though you're a noble.'

'Like you're one to talk!'

A rather crass argument, but amusing nonetheless. Maximilian is Count Rosenberg's cousin, if I remember right. That puts me in mind of the ever-charming duo of Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg — forgotten in the wake of recent events. I automatically grimace, then chuckle. Even when the kingdom is crashing down around our heads, we still have time for our petty annoyances.

'I do not!' I tune back in the ongoing bickering. Ludwig gives Maximilian a look, and he flips like a switch. 'Okay, yeah, fine.'

The lights begin to dim, and we cease our bickering, and turn our attention to the stage. I didn't realise until now — but for Kai and Beatrix's sake, I'm glad Maximilian and Ludwig are here. I tend to be serious and single-minded — so while the mission takes priority, at least these two are helping liven up the atmosphere and make it feel more like a date.

The stage curtains open on a Greek tale of love and heartbreak, the odyssey of Hercules and Nausicaa, sung in soaring notes. A wounded hero who returns from his quest to his maiden, for her to bind his wounds. I remember recently covering the original fable with Leonhard in literature studies. Perhaps he would have paid more attention if I'd taken him to the opera, rather than made him read the book.

We're not here to enjoy the show, however. Ludwig, Maximilian, and I take it in turns casually passing the opera glasses to each other. We're looking for any tell-tale glints of weapons in the audience, any unusual movement in the wings. And checking the door behind us. A cloud of smoke on the stage nearly startles me into drawing my weapon, before I realise it's a planned part of the performance. I press the glasses into Maximilian's waiting hand, and glance at Beatrix and Kai. I notice her point something out with a whisper; Kai's soft response. They're doing an incredible job of not falling to pieces.

The curtain closes and we get to our feet, under the overriding storm of noise. We follow Kai and Beatrix out. Beatrix keeps up a steady stream of comments and laughter about the performance. When we reach the cool air of the Ringstrasse, we pause to get our bearings. The lights and noise of the theatre spill over the steps and pool at our feet. A charming flush lights Beatrix's face, although perhaps the absurdly tiny corset she's wearing has something to do with it.

'…thank you, Kai.' I catch her words. '…was lovely. Where are we…'

She knows — yet her performance is so perfect that she pretends as though she doesn't know. Kai points to a glass-walled, polished Venezian restaurant across the street. I wince a little. A lovely place, and a charming date spot, to be sure — but the visibility almost begs for one to be shot through a window. We cross the street. Beatrix elegantly traverses the cobblestones in her high heels. Yet another aggravating factor. I should have told her to wear boots. In case she needs to run.

I touch Maximilian's arm, and he nods, before moving closer to Beatrix. This is where I have to leave them. They enter the restaurant, bell above the door chiming, and I split off and leave. The scent of flour and oil wafts from the open door and my stomach rumbles. I grimace. All this recent drama hasn't allowed for regular meals. I make a circuit of the Ringstrasse, the roar of the city a dull murmur in my ears. No action yet. We planned that any soldiers at a specific location that passed unscathed would relocate to the next area. Like a snowball, getting larger as it rolls, until eventually, all the armed forces will be crammed in a blast radius circle with Beatrix and Kai at the centre.

I draw my coat closer, waiting for the road traffic to thin so I can cross the street. I can vaguely see Kai and Beatrix behind their guards' silhouettes. I head towards a building near the restaurant. My eyes wander, to the rooftops. I squint. A little further back, hidden behind a chimney and a pigeon cote, something cold and black protrudes. A gatling gun. Once I realise, the shape seems obvious. _Overkill, Viktor?_ That's enough firepower to obliterate a battlefield. Upon reaching the building, the door opens for me and I slip inside, past a few soldiers, to a phone in an alcove in the foyer.

The operator puts the call through for me. The line crackles. 'Heine?'

I press the mouthpiece against my cheek. 'Viktor.'

'No fireworks?'

'Nothing. Quiet as the grave.'

'More soldiers are descending on your location. Only the dance hall is left and then the show is done. Something's going to have to happen soon, if ever.'

'Agreed.'

'So what do you think? A finale? Interval? Or anticlimax?'

'I don't know. Our man seems to have a sense for the dramatic. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to play the unlikely route and take action around now.' I shift, and adjust the mouthpiece. 'That reminds me. The gatling gun is a little much, Viktor. It's well-hidden, but still. It could scare civilians.'

Static fizzes in my ear. 'That's not ours.'

I blink. I look out the door. I turn back. 'What do you mean?'

I can hear Viktor's heavy breathing. And that's when I hit my internal panic button. 'It's not ours, for the very reasons you just — _Heilige —_ Heine, _go_ —'

I'm already running; my shoes scrape sparks off the marble and my feet blur and I _sprint_ down the steps.

The landing jars me hard and I rock on my feet for a second. _Kai, Prince Kai_ — My head snaps up. The edges of my vision start tearing. The crowds melt and shift around me — I run, then stumble. The restaurant sits grey and empty. My heart crashes into my boots. No. Oh no.

Because Kai and Beatrix are already crossing the stone plaza with their guards, smiling, unable to see the shadow of the gatling gun that clings to my shoulder like the skeletal hand of death itself.

I can hear it, too. I draw one foot, glance behind and up. The faint, steady click of the hand crank, the sliding of machinery as it follows every step of Lady Beatrix's jewelled shoes. A rapid fire, crank-driven gun with clustered barrels, installed in the canon of weaponry by the Americans. D_ them.

' _Move!_ '

Kai and Beatrix stop, stunned. 'What — ' The plaza stills and freezes, everyone arrested by my voice.

Yet they're not moving, no one's listening and I —

A flash of blue and gold, all the way at the other end of the street. If my voice will carry that far —

' _Move it!'_

And it carries. And reaches him.

He spins, eyes catching mine, and he yells, even louder than me, ' _Everyone get out of the streets!_ '

If that doesn't work then this is going to be a bloodbath —

And the first bullet bites stone.

Shards of granite explode, spraying dust and screams ricochet. Soldiers and civilians clash and flee, like breaking waves; another bullet, and Kai looks up and his eyes lock in on the gun. The shooter's toying with us — ' _Run!_ ' — yet Kai has already snatched Beatrix's hand, they're running, I'm running, them for their lives, me towards the shooter, and I'll be d_ed if he has a sense of timing because it's now that the hailstorm hits.

The crank screams and a wave of bullets rips up the paving-stones, and roars hot after Beatrix and Kai. Civilians scatter and pour out of the plaza in hordes, yet there's only so much room — _oh no_ — Beatrix's necklace comes loose; clinks on the ground and is shredded to bits of shrapnel by hot lead in an instant and spraying crystalline shards. We have hundreds of soldiers, _right here_ , yet they can't do anything, Viktor can't do anything, we can't fight a flood of bullets ripping up the whole d_ed _street_ and —

I run for an alleyway. I've got to get up there, got to — a bullet cracks in my ear and I dive, and spring onto my fingertips and vault out of the way. Everything blurs in a vortex, and I flip head over heels, faster and faster. A faint glimpse of blue, of Beatrix and Kai, running, dancing out of a wave of lead. I fly into the alleyway; my hand snags a drainpipe, nearly ripping my arm out of its socket, and I streak upwards, hitting stone, windows, walls —

The crank screams; bullets still roar. The ugliest parkour I've ever done and I nearly careen right over the roof when I reach the top. The vertigo almost gives me a heart attack yet I don't have time, I only have time to draw my pistol and bludgeon the shooter — hunched over the gatling gun — over the head, and I come near killing him in my frantic rush to stop, just _stop_ the _shooting, PLEASE._

The crank hangs limp, and the bullets sputter, die, and silence.

For good measure I haul the shooter up and slam him to the ground and stamp on his gun hand. He screams. I feel sick. He's bleeding, yet it's not enough. He looks at me, tries to speak through broken teeth and can't.

'You b_,' I say. 'This is the Ringstrasse. One million people walk these streets and you just — ' I raise my hand to him, craving the blow, craving the bruised knuckles of punching someone, yet… A slight pain in my chest. A voice in my head. A warning to pull away, to stop before I —

The man splutters through his pain, through his broken teeth. He seems agitated, and not merely from my beating him into the ground, either. ' _What?_ ' I snap. So he points, with the mangled fingers that I stamped on, that I broke underfoot. I look.

I get up. Walk to the edge of the roof.

The gatling gun was merely a distraction.

_.

A wide bridge cuts across the end of the road in the distance and Kai and Beatrix near it, still running, yet slower, daring to hope that they outran the worst of it. A bell tower watches over their approach and douses them in shadow, adorned with a beautifully-made clock face, outlined by the dying sun. And below the moving hands, a small glint in the dark.

I'm already leaping from the roof.

A sniper. I manage a weak smile. This has officially reached catastrophic levels.

I move, and roll — my shoulders hit brick and stone — and I'm running in arcs from rooftop to rooftop, counting down the seconds in bursts of shattering roof tiles. A window of clarity and I catch sight of Viktor.

'Stop Beatrix and Kai! _Now_!'

He sprints and chases after them, tearing up the road faster than any gatling gun ever could, and I run for broke as well.

If I can't stop the shooter, if Viktor can't stop Beatrix and Kai, they'll… die.

' _No_!'

I break my limits and sprint; everything blurs, spins, the wind tears at my jacket, and a sick tension and dizziness pulls me back to earth with each jump. _Faster_.

I pass Beatrix and Kai, fly past them, past the bridge. ' _Go back_!' I yell, yet I don't have time to check if they even heard and all I can do is pray that Viktor won't let me down; I'm already jumping to the street — a gunshot — and my body jerks instinctively, and I crash, sprawling over stone, scraping skin, my palms, my knees. I lie in a crumpled heap, but I don't have time — I drag myself up and stand, unsteadily. _Ugh. My side._

Viktor's voice explodes in my ears and he pulls Kai and Beatrix back, dusty and spattered with shards of gravel —

They're still alive and not shot and not dead, but they're still in the firing line and now VIktor is too and there's no way they way they can run far enough fast enough, and I'm already running because I've got to keep them alive even if it kills me —

I run into the clock tower, and I nearly give up and die right then because a flight of _stairs_ , yet I'm already running, up, up, slashed by the low crimson of the setting sun, and still running, and there'll be time for me to drop dead once I get up these ruddy —

I'm up. I fly headfirst onto a metal gantry and nearly plummet into a crunching mess of gears and machinery below. Only the flimsy railing that digs into my hips saves me. I gasp for breath.

He leans against the stone frame of the clock tower, with an M86 rifle with a telescopic sight in his arms and held to his eye. He glances at me. Then turns back and readies for the shot. I would be insulted if I didn't have more pressing issues, so I slap my hand to my holster and —

My gun is down in the street. I dropped it. So I draw my knife but he takes his second shot, and the bullet sings, cracks… on stone. I lunge; he raises the rifle with both hands and braces to block me, but I dodge and blaze upwards; I don't care how good he is, he's too close to block me now. I don't care if he's the first assassin I've encountered that seems to actually be competent. I flip the knife and it follows my arm. I don't care if I'm half dead —

The knife burns and burns and burns a gaping wound over his neck, his collar bone, his shoulder, and I grin because I've won, despite everything and —

He grabs my wrist. The rifle clatters to the floor. I'm frozen. And too slow. He takes my hand, the knife, drags me, pins me, and plunges my knife held in my hand through my own wrist. And I scream, because who wouldn't?

The blade throbs in my flesh. The pain is bad. But the terror — the fear swamping and crushing me, of being weak, vulnerable, of being _exploited_ — is worse. Because he's bigger than me, and he's already ripping the blade out with a twist, ripping a cry out of my chest, and he's stronger and I can't —

I punch the blade out of his grip with my torn hand, because if he can fight while bleeding every where then _I_ _can as well_ —

I fight, clawing, clawing for my life, kicking and scratching even when he drags me down into the shadows, even when he hits me — because I've already been hit before. I've already bled in the dark, and I was younger, weaker then, but I'm not now and I no longer have nothing to lose, I've got _everything_ to lose so I'll _fight_ , and —

I'm on top of him. And it's over.

I touch his neck. Feel for a pulse. Try to find one, under all the rusting blood and torn fabric. It's faint. Getting fainter. I breathe.

I breathe too soon. I'm slammed into the metal floor, my glasses snap, and he's dragging me to the edge, we teeter for a moment, and I assume that he decides that if he can't beat me then he's going to take me with him and so we fall.

Wind and light explode and roar in my ears in a painful blast. _Not happening._ I pull, move, and twist and fight in a blur of seconds; stone shatters, and he takes the brunt of it. _After you, sir._

And I crumple in the broken cobblestones. I try to gather my torn jacket around me. Try to hide how raw that left me. I hear commotion, at my back: the clip of horseshoes, panicked voices, shouts. Marching of soldiers. And a familiar step, a frantic running, barely restrained by etiquette or military training.

' _Heine!_ '

And Viktor's crushing me, hugging me, holding me. His hands in my hair. His tears, his pain, and fear, and his blue eyes begging me, asking me. 'Heine, are you — '

'Kai and Beatrix.'

Viktor stops. 'Pardon?'

'Kai and Beatrix. Are they all right?'

'Y-Yes, but Heine — '

I look over his shoulder. Kai and Beatrix stand at a distance, stained and windswept, stricken, but alive, backed by walls of soldiers behind them — floodgates between the disaster zone and the waves of civilians. 'Good.'

 _My apologies, Lady Beatrix. I'm no longer in a fit state to dance._

I shift, and glance at the sniper in the crater beside us. 'The gatling gun was a distraction. A gambit.'

'Heine — '

They had a sniper up in the clock tower. He could be the puppeteer we're looking for, but we don't know. We're done. For now. I'll organise interrogations and — '

' _Heine.'_

He lifts my torn wrist and bruised, bloodied hand between us.

I glance at it. Then return to the matter at hand. 'It's not my gun hand. I can still shoot.'

Something snaps in Viktor's eyes.

'Heine — '

'I'll take pain killers. I'll be fine by — '

' _Heine_. Stop talking.'

I blink. 'Viktor?'

Viktor touches my wrist. I wince. Hot, bitter pain. And slowly, everything. The bruises, the cuts, scrapes. The fatigue. The pain. It sinks in, slow and heavy, and I want let myself break, and cry. And heal. Yet I can't. Not yet. I still have to —

'I'm relieving you of your duties, Heine.'

My hand drops into my lap.

'You've done more than enough. You and I both think that we might have found our target. Your work is done.'

'Stop, Viktor.' My voice is low, dangerous. I'm fading, but I'm still cohesive enough to be _angry_. 'You can't just take me out of this like a piece off a chessboard. What's going to happen to the princes now?'

Viktor's eyes harden. 'We have guards. And this is done — '

'You don't know that. That's why you need me. And you still need me. And what the h_ happened to "the guards aren't enough to protect the princes" — '

'You're out of bullets, Heine. You told me you were nearing your limits. And look what you've done to yourself, I can't in good conscience — '

'Done to myself?' My voice cracks. 'Your conscience? You asked me to do this, Viktor! You did this to me!' He chokes, a ragged gasp. 'But Viktor, I was _happy_ to _do it_!'

I may as well have struck him for how my words pierce him. He's angry now, wounded. 'I know, Heine. But that's enough. That's not the point. Stop — '

'You're ordering me now?'

'I'm _not._ And I care about you Heine, that's why I'm — '

'And you still asked me to do this anyway! Look, Viktor, I don't care about that!' My voice breaks. 'I'll break for you, if that's what you want, but I can't if you won't _let_ me!'

'I forbid it.'

'There we are. I've been forbidden by the king. Heaven help me now.'

Viktor grabs my shoulders, so angry he doesn't hear me gasp in pain. 'I don't want to fight with you Heine. We'll talk once you're in your right mind.'

'Am I really not in my right mind?' I hiss. We can't even raise our voices and have this out like a proper argument — half the kingdom and the entire military are watching us. 'Besides, I'd be in my "right mind" if I wasn't helping you carry the kingdom on your shoulders as per your request. Make up your mind what you _want_.'

His fingers clench around my arms, and he says, 'I'm sending you to Eins's palace. You need medical attention and it's closer than coming back to Weisburg.'

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. 'You're sending me away?'

'Heine, _please_. You need rest. You need help. And you won't give it to yourself.'

'I'm not out of my mind, Viktor — if I was, I wouldn't be arguing. You said you liked that I didn't always agree with you.' Something threatens to break behind my voice. 'You said you wanted me, that you wanted my help.'

Viktor slaps me. Nearly. His fingers graze my cheek. I stare at him; he drops his hand, but his shoulders still heave. I take a breath. He loosens his grip. 'Heine. This is already killing me.'

'Because this is all about you.'

'You know that's not true.' I flinch, because he's right.

He attacks again. 'You need to — '

'And it's not about me, either!'

Viktor throws up his hands. 'Well, _guess what_? It's not about either of us!'

'But it's about your sons, isn't it?' I snap.

Viktor stands and heaves me into his arms before I can push him away, a storm raging under his skin. 'Yes — at least we can agree on that.' He carries me to a waiting carriage. I fight, resist. 'We're both selfish, Heine. I can say that much.' A footman opens the doors. 'And if it's selfish for me to try and help you when you don't want it, then fine.'

He dumps me into the carriage. Something breaks, fragile glass. And despite his anger, his frustration — that he wants to take out on me but can't, because he's so perfect and kind that it makes me want to give in, yet I can't — he gently touches my arm, pressing my injured hand into my lap, out of harm's way.

The doors close. He doesn't even watch me leave.

It was the pocket watch. Mine. His. It's broken.

 _Wait, Viktor._

My lips tremble. My chest hurts, and I don't know why.

 _You can't send me away. I'm the one who's meant to leave._

 _You're the one who's meant to come and tell me I can come back._

My heart cracks. It splinters. And it breaks. Golden mechanisms and faceted glass and silver chains, shattering into a thousand shards.

 _Come back._

My walls come crashing down and I cry, so hard that it hurts. Metallic tears, pain and salt and blood, and jagged, broken sobs that wrack my frame, opening the wound so it can begin to heal.

I bury my face in my hands, sobbing, the glasses on my face bent and broken, as broken as my life. Pain and saltwater stains my hands and heart.

I thought if I let myself break, I could begin to heal.

But it was Viktor that broke me instead.

And I don't know if that's something I'm ever going to be able to heal from.

 _End of Act 4: Purple Bullet_

 _To be continued in Act 5: Black Siege…_

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm the kind of writer who likes 'awful' ideas. As in, I think of something: a joke, a plot twist, an outrageous scene, and I think,'No, that's awful! I can't, it would... work so well and I can't not do it now, so brace yourselves everyone.' Anyone who knows me and my work will have heard me say, 'I couldn't not do it!' at some point.

And at some point I realised that's the stuff that makes good stories, whether it's something no one else will say or something that no one else will dare to do. And if the plot and characters get so out of control that they nearly go off the rails? Good. Real life is a mess and good stories should be 'a mess,' so I just roll with it. The best stories are disasters on wheels, anyway.

Reviews, feedback, and criticism welcome, and the story continues in the next act...


	39. Black Siege I

**~ Heine ~**

When it comes to pain, I'm blessed for choice. Or maybe I'm cursed. The carriage jolts over a rut in the road and my legs buckle — sparking, flaming hot. I reach, instinctively, to the pain, yet my wrist is still torn and bleeding so now that hurts too. I double over, then bite the inside of my cheek, wincing. And I think I've pulled some stitches in my stab wound, because it hurts like hellfire. Gouge marks ache in my skin. Every bruise, gut, gash, and scrape all throb and sting, jarred by the moving carriage.

I could think about something else. Like Viktor. But each time I do, I run right back to the pain — easier to deal with, to process, than that. Because for all my various wounds, my heart is the thing that hurts the most.

I've lost my gun. And my knife. All I have left are empty holsters. I flex the fingers of my good hand, and squeeze an imaginary trigger. 'I can still shoot,' I whisper. Like a child who says he can still play a little longer.

I press my fingers to my glasses, and realise that the frames are bent. I'm lucky the lenses didn't break. I'm lucky I didn't die. Because I could have. I'm not stupid enough not to see that. I just…

Why can't I just give in? Why?

I just don't know.

Schwarz Palace — slightly hazy through my crooked glasses — comes into view. Night has taken the stage, and only the moon lights the carriage's arrival on the drive. Several moments pass, then the ornate doors swing open and a single figure darts down the steps between the two rows of guards. This would be where I get out of the carriage and inconvenience everyone, yet… I think I'm too weak to even stand.

It's Count Rosenberg. _Wonderful._

He speaks to the carriage driver, then looks, startled, in my direction. He opens the carriage door; sees me, and looks as though he's stepped in wet paint. 'Herr… Wittgenstein. Good evening.' His ruby-coloured eyes glow in the dark, and his brow creases.

'I'm not thrilled to be here either, rest assured.'

When I make no move, he asks, 'To what do we owe the pleasure?'

'I'm afraid I've been foisted on your generous hospitality. My apologies. '

'…I'm afraid I don't — '

He flinches, seeing my expression. He sighs. Rests a hand on the doorframe, and holds the other out to me. 'Are you quite all right?' I lift my hand to his, and wince. 'We can…'

His eyes widen. He takes my hand. Silver light spills past his shadow and defines the bleeding stab wound in my wrist, the blood seeping into his glove. 'My my. Looks like someone's been getting a little carried away.'

My voice comes out low and strained. 'I didn't ask to be impaled on my own _knife_.'

Rosenberg's eyes focus in the dark, catlike. He sees the tear in my waistcoat, the scrapes and scratches on my cheeks. 'Can you even stand?'

I don't answer. _I don't think so_. Then I realise what he's getting at.

'Don't you _dare_ — '

But he's already got me in his arms, staining his suede lavender coat in blood and mess and every shade in between. 'This is why one can't have nice things. I'm going to be sending you my dry cleaning bill,' he says, sounding irritated, for the first time that I've ever heard him.

I try to get free, yet he only gets a firmer grip, and — 'Ugh!' I pull his hand away from my stab wound. 'Can you… not?' I ask, weakly.

He shifts, holding me lightly, bridal style. What I wouldn't give to be able to punch him, yet my good arm isn't in a position to do so. 'Have you lost weight? You seem lighter than last time.'

'Put me back in the… carriage…' My vision blacks and stars spin in my eyes. 'I'd rather take my chances.'

My begging is ignored, and Rosenberg carries me up the steps. 'I'm afraid that won't do.' In the moonlight, I'm sure I look even worse. The cold winds sting my cuts and bruises. He raises his eyebrows. 'My word. What on earth did you do to get sent to us? Did the royals tire of their favourite plaything?'

My chest aches. He's hit too close to the truth. I grip the edge of his jacket, and say nothing. He slows, and stops between steps. The wind ruffles our hair. I say nothing at all.

He carries me up the steps and into the palace, out of the night and into the dark. I don't even have the strength to wish that he'd just drop me on the driveway.

The doors are bolted behind us, and I open my eyes enough to see a warm glow of candlelight, a pair of maids walking down the hall, footmen at attention behind us. A spiked chandelier floats overhead. The crystals fade to a glittery mess, and I close my eyes again.

Sharp steps on the marble floor. 'Ernst? What is this?'

'A guest, my lord. A common species that typically frequents most abodes?'

Eins scoffs. His shoes click, and stop, beside me. 'It seems that we're fated to keep running into each other, Herr Wittgenstein.'

I don't respond. I'm too tired.

'…Why is he here, Ernst?'

'He came in a carriage. Apparently he was sent by the palace.'

'You mean by my father.'

'Probably. The stab wounds and the like are impeding his conversational abilities, so I haven't determined what the matter is.'

'…'

I can practically hear Rosenberg smirk. 'Can we keep him, my lord?' My foot twitches. I think about kicking him.

Eins heaves a sigh. '"My prince, can we take in this darling stray cat that I pulled out of the gutter?"' The chocolatey, ashy smell of tobacco wafts around us. 'I'd be more inclined to take in the cat. Fine. Get him to bed. Call our physician. I'm off to telegram my father — that will be faster than waiting for this one to reach some degree of coherency.'

'As you wish.' Eins walks off, and Rosenberg carries me up a flight of stairs. Something hard presses against me, beneath Rosenberg's coat. I can't think what it is.

'You have quite a nerve,' Rosenberg says. 'The crown prince addresses you and you sleep through it.'

'…Half-unconscious. Can't help it.'

Rosenberg shrugs, and I wince at the movement. We step onto the landing.

He lowers me onto a velvety, perfectly made bed. He lights the candlestick at the bedside. He looks at me and purses his lips, before slipping out of the room. He returns a moment later. 'I'm afraid we don't have clothes in anything near your size.'

I take a ragged breath. 'Have you heard of tact?'

'Hmph.' He chuckles. 'You certainly don't die easily.'

'Yes. If I've learned nothing else from all this.'

He helps me sit up, unbuttons my shirt. The last thing I want is his help, but I don't have the strength to refuse. My garments fall around my waist, in a dishevelled pile. Baring the bandages and ripped stitches. Neither of us speak for a moment.

'You've been busy.'

'Seems so.' In the flickering candlelight, I can see that the bruises painting my skin have darkened, deepening with time. Yet the freshest ones are already pooling under my skin. Savage fingermarks on my waist.

Rosenberg drops the fresh shirt over my head. It's far too big, falling to my knees. I fumble to get my arms through the holes. It might even be one of his, actually. He helps me drag off my boots and torn trousers, and drapes a dressing gown around my shoulders. I lose my hands in the oversized sleeves. Soft velvet smothers my skin, like a hot coffee on a winter's night.

'On second thoughts, I think I might be dead after all,' I murmur. 'And in some afterlife where you're actually a civil person.'

He snaps a finger between my eyes. 'How rude. I'm always civil.'

I don't contest the point. He slips out of the room yet again, and I watch him go, my thoughts not quite dead and beyond functioning. It doesn't matter how much sympathy he has for my pathetic state: this is unlike him indeed.

A knock on the door, and this time the physician lets himself in. He gives a whistle, and raises an eyebrow. 'Probably not what you wanted to see at this time of night,' I say.

He sets his bag down. I unbutton my shirt, then realise that my various stab wounds and scratched face have thrown the doctor for a wide loop. He searches for something to say, to break the silence. I look away. …I really don't feel like explaining this.

Then Eins steps inside and casts a towering shadow over us. 'Don't let me interrupt. Carry on.'

The physician is so scared that all his questions fly out of his head at once. Eins glances at me. Rosenberg slips in behind him, takes my tattered clothes, and sets to washing and mending them in the corner of the room. I guess I'll need them again, but… it's not as though I'm going anywhere, anytime soon.

'…Pain medication.' I turn back to the doctor. 'You're holding up real well, but it's about time we put you on something.'

'I can't. I have to…' _Be able to concentrate. I have to keep my head clear. I can't be distracted._ But there's no need for that anymore, is there? It hits me hard.

'And it looks like you'll need stitches. In your wrist, and a touchup job,' he says, pointing at my stained bandages. 'You shouldn't have to sit through that without being medicated.'

I feel sick, even if merely at the idea of more pain. I lower my gaze.

The physician unscrews a bottle, tips out the pills. They roll around his palm. 'They'll stop the pain, but they'll make you very ill.'

Rosenberg glances over. I know Eins is watching me. I take a breath. It's shakier than I would like. 'Well, it's not as though anyone needs me for anything.'

It hurt so much more to say it than I thought it would.

The doctor claps me on the shoulder, and gives me the pills. I force them down with sips of water. They taste like aniseed, a bitter, tipsy flavour. Exhausted, I let the doctor do what he will. He cleans away the blood, the filth, dabs antiseptic on each scrape, then gives up on that and just rubs it over my skin with a wad of gauze. I can barely feel the stinging. After checking the painkillers' effect, he stitches up my side, my wrist. Bandages my chest and works on my hand, manipulating the torn and crooked muscle and bone. He winds gauze between my fingers, then straps my hand up in a sling.

I look over at Eins as the doctor tries to plaster bandages on the scrapes on my neck. 'You clearly want to ask me something, Prince. What is it?'

Eins glances up and pretends to think. Then leans against the wall and says, 'I wanted to ask as to why you were sent here.'

'…Didn't His Majesty tell you what you wanted to know?'

'To a degree. But for once, he wasn't very forthcoming. Normally he won't shut up about you.'

I look at the quilt, at my bandaged fingers. 'He informed me that my work was done, and he wanted me to get immediate medical attention. He said your residence was closer.' Viktor's words — his excuses — sounds flimsy to me, so they must sound pathetic to Eins. Viktor just doesn't want me near the palace, so that way I can't push myself over the edge again. He just wants to keep me safe. But then why does that hurt so badly?

'Is that so?' Eins says. He reads me, reads between the lines. 'Did my father accidentally break his favourite toy?'

I should be snapping at him. Telling him he's gone too far. I should be furious. Yet… I think I truly am broken.

'Maybe he did.'

Because I can't feel anything anymore.

My response isn't what Eins wanted. A chill settles over his features, and for once, he actually looks… discomfited. Ernst hangs my clothes to dry, as though he wasn't listening to every word.

The physician closes his bag, and pats my shoulder. 'Well, we've worked over every inch of you and run out of things to bandage. Seems we're done.'

'Thank you,' I say softly.

'Hmm? Of course not. It's my job, after all.' His face turns serious. 'Still, if the painkillers are working, I'm afraid you're going to start feeling pretty unwell.'

I already am: pains in my stomach, a light fever under my skin. I nod.

Rosenberg draws the covers up, and I nearly get lost in them. I sink into the pillows piled at my back. He covers my bandaged, sling-held arm with my dressing gown.

The doctor bows, and heads for the door. 'You may want someone to watch him. He's still very weak, and he'll have a fever from the medication.' Eins nods, and the doctor takes his leave.

Rosenberg leaves too, but pauses at the door, speaks to Eins. 'Dinner will be ready soon. Do you want anything?'

Eins glances at his pocket watch. 'Maybe. I've got a lot of work I need to get through.' He lowers his voice, yet I can still hear. 'And a lot of things to take care of.' His intonation is heavy on subtext.

And strangely, he touches a hand to Rosenberg's waist — to where I was knocked up against something hard while Rosenberg was carrying me — with a flickering question in his eyes. Rosenberg nods. And Eins leaves, his coat billowing shadows in his wake.

Rosenberg takes off his stained gloves. 'What a bore. Suede is impossible to clean.'

My eyes are already closing. 'Well, you did insist on carrying me. Like a pet.'

'You can hold a big grudge for someone so small.'

I open one eye to glare at him. 'Are you merely lingering to tease me, now?'

He smiles, more like a cat than ever. 'No, it seems you're merely staying awake to be annoyed.'

'Touché.'

Rosenberg shrugs, then asks, 'I know you're not at your best, but — '

I glare daggers at him. He scoffs, because I can't really argue, as much as I wish otherwise.

' — but would you care for something to eat?'

And I realise why I've been getting more and more dizzy spells, why my vision's been blurring. I don't think I've eaten since… breakfast. Yet despite the hunger pangs… I need sleep more than anything.

'I… I'm just too tired.'

'When did you last eat?'

'Earlier.'

He blows out the candle. Sticky darkness floods the room. 'If you don't eat, you'll burn out altogether. I'll bring you some food and wake you up later.'

I close my eyes. The dark embraces me, settling on my limbs, heavy, and soft. Warm. Fingers brush my forehead, cold to the touch.

I open one eye, then close it again and sigh. 'If you're done playing doctor…?'

I can hear Rosenberg being irritated beside me. 'I must say, this feels somewhat like I acquired a little brother. A temperamental, hot-headed one.'

Blow for blow. We almost _could_ be brothers at this rate. Though the idea makes me gag. I'm sure we'd both rather die than be saddled together by blood.

He pulls my glasses from my face. Tinkers with the bent frame.

'…Thank you. Ernst.' And sleep takes me before hunger or fever can even sink their claws in.

 _To be continued…_


	40. Black Siege II

**~ Viktor ~**

I don't remember what I even won some of these medals for. I'm meant to be pinning them to my military dress uniform, but I've been sitting, gazing at the cluster of gold in my upturned hand for several minutes.

'Your Majesty?' Jakob Frien flits around my office like an overworked silver sprite, no doubt tending to last-minute details that I should be taking care of myself. 'You'll need to leave in a moment.'

I nod, and slide and fasten the medals over my chest. 'Sorry, I'm just… distracted.'

I just can't get Heine's heartbroken amber eyes out of my head. I press my lips together. Nor do I deserve to. He's right. I did that to him. I can't sort out my thoughts: part of me wants to give in and stop fighting him, yet the other part can't let this continue. If I let him continue, he would have shattered himself beyond repair.

And now I've broken something which I don't know how to fix it, nor do I know how to explain that I only want to see him safe.

 _Then why did you send him through hell and back?_

Because I had to, didn't I? I calculated the risk; I asked him over and over if he was sure he wanted to do this, if he wanted to quit. I gave him every opportunity to walk away. Yet he closed all those doors in his own face. The realisation hits me hard: he closed those doors for my sake. And I should seen that it was going to happen.

I thought I could handle it. Handle seeing Heine in danger. But seeing him crumpled beside the clock tower nearly stopped my heart. I threw him into what must have been one of the most traumatic experiences of his life and forced him to adapt. And he sold himself to it, body and soul. But then I changed my mind, and decided at a moment's notice to cut the wires and shut him down without a warning, and I sent him to Schwarz Palace without even thinking about it. Without even knowing why.

 _And now that things aren't going how you want, you're going to send me away?_

Like snapping a silver cord in two, I sent him away.

What kind of friend does that?

A pin stabs my fingertip, and I wince. The blood stains my glove, like the regret staining my conscience. How did we even get to this?

I can speak seven different languages. But I can't explain what's in my heart, even to myself.

I close the clasp of the final medal with a _snick._ I put a gun in my friend's hand and now he can't even put it down anymore. I close my hand, and the spiked medallions bite my palm. I did this to him and I should at least suffer a little for it. I stand, and regret it immediately.

Heine never realised the extent of how ill I was. We're both far too skilled at hiding things from each other.

I click the lid off the jar of pills, and take one. I'm taking them so often now that I may as well leave the jar open. I slip some into my pocket. My uniform is weighed down by medals and gold braid, so much so that moving my arms is a chore. A dress sword hangs from my side, strapped in place with leather bands. My medallion feels like a dog's collar around my neck, heavy and chafing. I force the fatigue, the stomach-churning dizziness away. It can wait, I can wait — as soon as I can fix this mess, this disaster that I've forced on everyone, then I can take care of myself.

I can't stop thinking about Heine. And gradually, all the shattered pieces fall into two piles, of porcelain and glass. He wanted to keep protecting the princes for my sake… and I couldn't bear to see him get hurt. My tendency to do whatever I wish heedless of the consequences stains me like black ink soaked into my skin. And his tendency to self-sacrifice appears in the fragments, an old pattern in the china.

But if he wanted to fight for them, for me, so badly, then why couldn't I just let him?

I straighten the papers on my desk. Because I don't know the answers. Because pushing papers is easier than using your head, and by easier by far than using your heart.

Jakob interrupts me and presses a telegram into my palm. 'Beatrix von Lothringen telegraphed her safe return to her residence, per your request.'

Beatrix and Kai, quickly forgotten in the aftermath of events. Standing to the side while Heine and I had a row in front of half the kingdom's military. Of course I was embarrassed. But I didn't care so much about that. What rattled me was my inability to regain control of the situation.

I was protecting him. If I let Heine stay, he would only try and throw himself in harm's way again —

My brow creases, and I press my fingers to my temple. No. You sent him away because you couldn't take the time to even have a proper argument with your best friend. _I'm sorry, Heine. Believe me._

…I have to acknowledge the telegram. 'Good.' My voice comes out tired. I clear my throat. I don't have the luxury of being tired at the moment. Jakob helps me drag my heavy overcoat on, over my military uniform.

'The carriage is on the drive, and your personal effects have already been sent on ahead to the port.'

'Thank you, Jakob.' I step out the gilded doors of my office. 'Take care of things here for me.'

Jakob pauses. Then gathers a piles of papers and waits for me to leave. 'As you wish, Your Majesty.'

The heavy doors close at my back. Candles burn in their sconces, highlighting the wallpaper with a fresh glow. The doors and hallways pass by, falling away like the marble steps that I slip down. The palace is quietly busy as usual, yet… I feel like an untethered spirit passing through. Grey in gold and colour.

An open door catches my eye. A sitting room, not yet cleaned up from the activities of the day. A burnt-out fire, stacks of books, a stray training sword. I finger the doorframe. On impulse, I wonder if I have the time to say goodbye to my sons before leaving. It's not as though I'm going to be away for months, however. And I wouldn't want to… Could I?

But right as I make up my mind to do it, I realise I can't. Not without having to answer questions about Heine's whereabouts. His whereabouts are my fault, but still. I glance at my pocket watch.

The moon follows my tracks from the palace corridors to the driveway. I have to go.

I'm not running late, however. I'm running… from my problems.

The carriage jolts, and departs, carrying me with it.

I rest my head in my hand, and slump against the velvet seat, crushing my uniform. The stars shine too sweetly through the window.

Am I? Am I running away? I can't help it that I had to leave the country this very evening. I can't help it that Heine would rather die than give in or give up. I can't help it that I had to…

I blink.

Heated words, exchanged like blows in a forge. Random phrases, thrown without a second thought, or no thought at all.

 _We're both selfish, Heine. I can say that much._ _And if it's selfish for me to try and help you when you don't want it, then fine._

Am I being… selfish?

Several minutes pass, where I can't think a single word.

Impossible. How is this being — how could I be — selfish, when I when I care about him as much as my own flesh and blood?

The realisation strikes me like a hard blow from a sword. I look out the window.

…Can love be selfish?

The hands on my pocketwatch tick, marking the distance travelled.

A carriage ride to the coast. To another evening, aboard another ship, that will take me overseas for yet another counterproductive diplomatic meeting, though all parties involved would like to think that it was worth something. Including myself. It won't evoke any change in the unsteady, multicultural infrastructure that we're trying to hold together. I don't think any of us have the power to achieve equality, or even a passing semblance of it. At least not now.

Things are supposedly excellent in Europe right now. Better than they've been for decades. For centuries. And that's true.

But the pins in the axels are coming loose, and eventually… the wheels will come off.

The scenery passes in frozen time.

Even with the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders, I can't help but wish for the impossible. I want to fix my own problems. For a change. Just this once. To fix my mistakes. To take the time to do something right. To spend time with my family. I blink, and touch my fingers to my chest. The desire feels almost unusual, maybe because I never let myself feel it.

Because I know it's something I can't have.

You can love what you do and still carry a weight on your shoulders. My duties can be shackles, even though they're light. Ones I would gladly bind myself with.

But they've never felt so heavy.

 _To be continued…_


	41. Black Siege III

**~ Leonhard ~**

 _Have you seen Heine?_

I sit in a tangle of sheets and blankets. A blank diary lies on my bedside table.

That's what I asked my brothers, yet it seemed that none of us actually knew where Heine was.

 _Maybe he's just gone to bed already,_ Bruno said. _Today was… eventful. To say the least._

Kai looked exhausted, and he essentially said the same thing.

Licht shrugged; said we'd run into him tomorrow.

I drag a pillow into my lap, and rest my arms on it. _Heine_. I… I wanted to talk to him. I blush, but I can't lie to myself. I've been ordered to rest and stay in my room as much as I can until further notice. To take care so that I don't worsen the paper cut-thin, stitched wound on my chest. It's been fine, but it's… lonely.

I'm fine… I think, but… I heard that something happened to Licht. Then I heard one of the maids say that he was poisoned. Then Bruno was attacked at the university. And came back the day after, shaken to the core. Today Kai was shot at in town. And he looked worried, the first time I've ever seen him appear so.

The clock strikes ten.

I even fell back on sugar and sweets at first. Something to distract myself. But it only worked for so long, until it made me sick, until I couldn't stomach a single piece of Zachertorte. So I had to stop. I haven't been able to sleep or eat for a long time now. I try, but I'm already throwing up as it is. Throwing up and crying, in the dark, each time one of my brothers falls in the firing line.

I'm scared. For them. They're my _brothers_ , I... I don't want to lose any of them.

And… _I'm_ scared. Because what if it starts all over again? My stomach clenches. W-What if I'm next?

I take a shaky breath, and dash away the tears.

I wish Heine was here. He wouldn't laugh at me… but then again, he doesn't laugh at anything. A smile teases my lips, unbidden. He'd give me some logical argument; outline in bullet-point form how everything's going to work out. Point out the answer, so obvious that I should have seen it for myself. And just a touch, barely there, he'd smile. Call me by my name. And say it's all right.

And I'd believe him.

The fantasy is so good that it feels real, it warms me from the inside out like hot chocolate. Quiets my nerves. Settles my heart, that's been beating an uneven, skittish rhythm for days. I rub my eyes, and curl up in bed. I feel drowsy. Maybe I'll even get some sleep…

The door swings open.

'Heine?' I can feel my face light up, and I blush, but I'm already up and heading for the door. 'Heine, where have you…'

The door opens into darkness.

I stop. Fear lightly claws my spine.

'H-Hello?'

A bloodcurdling scream, and wood and glass shatters in a storm. 'The dungeons! Guards, help! Jailbreak!'

 _Jailbreak._

'Guards — !'

And hands race out of the dark to grab me, racing right out of a nightmare, and everything explodes into chaos.

 _To be continued…_


	42. Black Siege IV

**~ Licht ~**

'I guess we should call it call it quits, ladies!'

This evening's cluster of girls protest, and normally I would laugh and flirt and give in with free abandon. One girl tugs playfully at my tie, and normally I would take that as an open invitation.

But I just don't… feel like it tonight. Candlelight flickers over the walls of my chambers. It's easy to pretend when you're not alone. So I should be able to forget about my problems, sharing a chaise lounge with these beautiful girls, right?

'Lichie?' The girl looks up at me, a question on her lips. 'Is something wrong?'

I feel bad that I can't even remember her name.

'What, how could anything be wrong?' I laugh. 'On second thought, it's wrong that we have to part ways, my angels!' They squeal with the usual excitement, and we get up to say farewells and locate purses and the like. I watch them laughing and talking as they slip on their winter coats. I won't kid myself. An evening with a prince? This was probably the highlight of their week. Yet… it was just another evening, for me.

'Well, thanks for coming out, girls.' It's so out of character that it startles them. I quickly overcorrect. 'If I'm not mistaken, it seems that Madonna herself showed up this evening. Or rather, three of her.'

' _Kyaaah_!' I can almost see sparkles and love hearts glittering in the air.

I wave, until they're out of sight. Then I close the door and lean against it with a weary sigh.

'Ugh.' I'm still not at my best. Still not fully recovered from being poisoned, to put it bluntly.

I walk, slowly, to the balcony that offsets my room. I breathe in the fresh night air from the railing. I needed that. I haven't even been up to entertaining my lady friends, until today.

I've been checked over by the doctor, of course — every day, every hour even, for a while. But I… It really shook me. I couldn't walk. I was dying, inch by inch. Helpless. I _am_ getting better, little by little.

But my legs still ache when I walk. And my stomach hurts, from the all the medicines I've had to take. And I've got my brothers to worry about. I sigh, a weary cloud of frost that disappears too quickly. I think I'm overdue for my next dose of medication by now.

I know things aren't great. But I can trust Heine to take care of them, at least. I would have broken down if he hadn't been there with me. I was… so scared. It's a weight off my chest to admit it, even if only to myself. And he stayed with me, all through the night, too. I smile.

Then thinking of Heine, I realise I probably shouldn't be standing out on the balcony, in the open. I'd get a scolding if he was here. I close my eyes, and chuckle. 'Eh, who am I kidding? Who'd go out of their way to have a go at a fifth prince?' I know someone would, though. Has already. I turn back to the door.

To the shadow standing behind me. And my heart sinks. Because my legs don't work well enough to run yet.

Even in a fraction of a second, my eyes dart to the palace grounds. Not a guard to be seen.

He lunges and I skid out of the way, but I can't even run, let alone walk, and he snags me by my hair and pulls me up short in a blast of pain, my feet barely touching the ground.

' _Ow!_ Get _off_!' I claw at him, but can't even reach far enough; my pretty blond hair has now become a golden leash, so long that he can control me and stay out of my range.

'St — _mmph_!' The gag lashes my face and chokes my words, and he forces me to the doors of my chambers, and I'm not even strong enough to resist.

If I don't die, I think I'll be strongly inclined to cut my hair short.

He stops me in the doorway, still holding me by my arm and my hair. I can barely breathe.

There are no guards.

Terror trickles down my ribcage, bleeding from my heart.

The halls are empty. Empty but for hulking shadows and smashed porcelain and glass, empty but for the shadowed figures in clothes that wouldn't have seen daylight for years, figures with knives and metal bars and lengths of chains.

'Jailbreak!' someone screams.

My heart slams against my ribs. If I could only I could speak, I would scream until I bled, if I could only get one of them to hear me, to hear these words.

 _Lock your doors._

 _Leo. Kai. Bruno — lock your doors and run_.

 _To be continued…_


	43. Black Siege V

**~ Bruno ~**

I shuffle the papers together and stack them, for Heine to look at; then I remember that it's late at night and I'm still writing at this unearthly hour.

 _…Oh._

I set the papers back on the desk, and flick through them with a sigh. They say that one should write from one's own experiences, but I'm writing to take my mind _off_ my problems. Or to try to, at least.

I set the papers down and rest my elbows on the desk, and gaze out the window.

Come to think of it, I still don't know if Heine has returned yet. I give the deserted palace driveway a look over. He must be exhausted. I was tired after the ordeal that we went through together, and I barely did anything.

I smudge a line of cursive with a fingertip, and rub it off on a blotting pad. That's right. I didn't do anything. Heine did everything, took all the hits. And… it doesn't feel fair.

I could ask Father if he knew where Heine was. Kai and Father returned earlier this evening, yet Heine wasn't with them. I saw them return from the library's windows. It was a shock, hearing about their exploits, and the following reasonable success. Apparently they even imprisoned the person behind this. That's what everyone believes at this point.

I wish that I could have helped.

I sigh. I've been fighting a guilty conscience without really knowing the reason. I think it's because I didn't get hurt. Leonhard, Licht, suffered various injuries in their attacks, and Kai and Beatrix nearly died. I should be grateful, and relieved that I'm safe. But I still feel bad. That I suffered so little when they suffered so much. That Heine took the worst of it for me.

Maybe I could do something for him. I prop my chin in my hand and turn to a fresh sheet of paper. I noticed that he strained his wrist a couple of days ago. Perhaps I could copy out lessons for him. I lean forward to refill my quill pen —

And hands close around my neck, sharper than a blade.

I gasp, and choke, and I'm pulled from my chair

Triggers click in my head —

 _He says it's still not enough —_

 _You still need more training, don't you?! —_

 _Then I'll torment you all I WANT —_

I'm shoved from the room, arms held behind my back, and my mind shutters, freezes over, and shatters, and everything that Heine told me to do is locked away and blocked off behind wall after wall of terror, so all encompassing that my vision blacks and I feel like I'm going to choke to death on it.

I take in the sight outside my rooms, and heart drops into my boots like a rock into my boots.

Convicts.

Escaped from the palace dungeons, with guards no where to be seen and glass and wood smashing and everything breaking —

 _Are you having problems, Bruno?_

 _None whatsoever —_

 _I'm having problems —_

 _Help —_

 _I'm losing it_ —

'Ugh!' I jerk and the hands claw into my neck, the pain bringing a brief distraction from my downards spiral.

 _Don't panic!_ I tell myself, furiously, through the fear that spikes through my ribcage like the prongs of a grappling iron, skewering my ribs, air bleeding from open wounds.

 _You're having a reaction to post-traumatic stress triggers — it's all mental! It's only in your head, man, so GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!_

Yet it's blurring: the line between then and now, the shadows stalking the halls, the abandoned training hall at military academy.

I can tell myself that it's in my head, but my head's too shattered to even process the thought. And I realise I'm hyperventilating.

Can't breathe, hands around my neck. Screaming in my ears.

Even as my vision flickers in and out, I can't understand what happened to all the guards. Where are all the patrols? How is it that no one can stop them? These people?

A shout, and two guards run down the hall with their swords drawn, and I dare hope, for only a second —

And a shadow streaks past me. Cuts them down before I can even trace him with my eyes.

A shudder wracks my spine. An uncontrollable chill. Cold shock.

He sheathes his knives, and turns, eyes flickering in two varying shades of gold in the light of flaming torches outside the windows.

He sees me. And realises that I've seen him.

And strides over, and my mind stutters, processing fragments, that I recognise him, his voice, his eyes, and he covers my mouth with a rag that reeks of chemicals and the cloying scent of chloroform, forcing the chemicals into my lungs, my mouth, gently choking me —

I try to speak, to beg, but unconsciousness wins and takes me down.

 _To be continued…_


	44. Black Siege VI

**~ Kai ~**

I step into my room and fasten my coat button by button to ward off the chill.

It's still winter, and no fire burns in the grate.

I collapse onto the bed without changing. I'm just too tired. Sleeping dressed is warmer, anyway.

I brush my hair from my eyes. I look at my hand, remember the feeling of Beatrix's hand in mine. She was happy, I think. Tonight. It was terrifying, and we had to run for our lives, but… Even when we were running from a wave of bullets, we caught each other's eyes. Just for a second.

And it almost felt like we were dancing.

I smile.

And a trigger creaks.

I bolt upright, but one's at the door with a gun raised and another is already closing in with lengths of chains, and I freeze, one hand raised and one boot touching the carpet.

My eyes snap to the one with the chains and I move —

And a bullet punches a hole in the carpet with a crack. I stop.

The chains bind my arms to my side, and I'm quivering, with rage, nerves, all of it, yet I can't do anything, can't do anything under the sights of a gun and under the weight of all this metal.

They pull me up and out of the room. One length of the chain held like a leash, like I'm a dog.

I grind my teeth and just walk. Into the hallway, and straight into a nightmarish hell.

Broken walls, smashed glass and porcelain powdering the floor, doors caved in —

 _Doors_.

Oh, Lord save us —

'What are you doing?' I yell, 'What have you done with my _brothers_ — ?'

The chains yank and knock the breath out of me, and I'm dragged down a staircase, out onto the palace driveway, in view of half the kingdom, yet no one knows. No one would imagine that someone could have taken down half the palace —

And where the _h_ _ are the dozens of _guards_ —

A single horse streaks over the courtyard, the rider sparing one glance to survey and weigh up the scene, then he leaves, thundering down the main road, and —

'Let me go at _once_!'

My heart stops.

Leonhard. Tearstained and hands bound, yet digging in his heels and fighting — and he's subdued, backhanded in the neck. His blue eyes widen. Silenced. And he blacks out.

He collapses on the cobblestones.

My pulse skips. Throbbing.

And I snap.

'You _b_stards_!' I roar — the chains creak and links snap and splinter —

They panic, and my gaze snaps from target to target — how many can I take down — and I'd have to kill them —

I stop, aghast.

Because I _would_ have to kill them, because nothing less will be enough to get us out of this alive.

Using violence as a tool. _I'll never raise my hand to someone again._ Resorting to violence out of anger are two different things. _I… I promised Teacher…_ All the logic and promises snarl and tangle in my head, clear-cut though the matter may be, and I can't think straight, I can only see Leonhard unconscious mere feet away and —

I'm scared. Because I'd have to massacre these people to get my brothers out of this, and I can't… do it —

A bullet clips my shoe, and they force me down, force crushing my shoulders and more lengths of chains lashing me. It doesn't even hurt, but I can't get up, can't —

Two men cross the courtyard in the chaos, carrying Licht, bound hand and foot.

His eyes catch mine, widening above a gag over his mouth, desperate. Reaching out with his eyes, because he can't speak or reach out a hand.

' _Licht!_ '

A boot cracks against my shoulder —

A man forces Bruno across the courtyard. His eyes catch mine, pained, dilated, half-conscious, _drugged_ —

' _Bruno!_ '

He tries to break free, to reach me, yelling, 'Kai, it's —

His captor forces a stained rag to his lips — _chloroform_ — and the words spill into the fabric, he fights the intoxication, and loses. And is carried away.

' _BRUNO!_

Blows land on my shoulders, forcing me to the cobblestones. ' _Down_ , Prince!'

A growl rips out of my chest — frustration, _rage_ — because they're treating us like _dogs_ —

And I'm dragged up and along, and we're being hauled in different directions — to the carriages scattered around the driveway — _they're splitting us up_ —

'Bruno! Licht!'

I try to get free, to fight, yet I don't know how, don't know what's happening, I don't know what to _do_ —

' _Leonhard_!'

'Shut your _mouth_ — !'

And fire explodes against my neck and unconsciousness hits me in a hot echo punch.

 _Someone…_

Tears fill my eyes.

 _Brothers, I'm… sorry…_

And I hit the ground.

 _To be continued…_


	45. Black Siege VII

**~ Heine ~**

The bed feels different. That's the first thought I have. Then I remember I'm not at the palace.

And everything comes back. I _am_ at a palace, it's just… a different one.

I press the back of my hand to my cheek, and my fingers feel cold to the touch. 'Fever.' Pain burns in the pit of my stomach, but the rest of me feels numb.

I drag my glasses on, after fumbling in the dark to locate them. My vision clears. The chandelier above my head looks different to the one back home — burnished bronze and jet-like shards, rather than delicate gold and crystal.

Then I realise I'm not alone.

A wraith has just slipped through the door.

I don't have weapons, I— I heft and fling the glass of water at the doorway and dive from the bed, skidding across the room in a tangle of limbs — glass shatters, a yell — before crouching in the shadows.

My eyes gradually adjust, and I see that the silhouette is balancing a tray of clinking china. He dumps it on the desk and glares in my direction.

'…Is that… you? Ernst?'

'No, it's Saint Nicholas.' He swipes a match and lights a candlestick. 'Who do you think?' he says, before mopping up the mess of water and glass with a hefty amount of ill-mannered complaining. 'I didn't think you'd wake up.'

I sit up. 'My apologies. Maybe you should… knock. Next time. For safety.'

Ernst leans against the wall, equal parts irritated and reluctantly impressed. 'You're a fiend. All that with your arm in a sling, no less. Anyone else would have cracked and gone into a coma by this point.'

I finger the carpet. '…Sounds nice.' I get to my feet and slip out of the shadows. 'Did you need me?'

Ernst rolls his eyes. 'Yes, one of the princes has been kidnapped.'

My heart near breaks my ribs.

Then he shakes his head, as though he can't believe I bought that. 'No. I was bringing your dinner.' The tray is set with a plate… and cutlery. 'It's a miracle I didn't tip it all over the _floor_ , however — '

I lunge, the knife at his neck before we even hit the carpet. The dust settles. The serrated edge gnaws at his skin. 'Say something like that again and I will _kill_ you.'

He's frozen. Only for a moment, then he glances from me to the blade, and back. Calculating. He smiles. 'Careful, little one,' he says, patting me on the back. 'You'll pull your stitches.'

My lips part, and I have to physically close my mouth. 'You son of a…'

He sighs. 'Relax. I know you're serious. Perhaps I was a touch insensitive.'

I'm more tired than I would like. Even a brief tussle took a lot out of me. ' _Verdammt direkt.'_

His gaze turns curious. 'What is that, an accent? You usually sound so polished.'

I'm one more word from putting my fist through a wall, so I settle for stabbing the knife into the carpet beside his head. 'Just stop before I snap, if you would.' I try to place my hand to get purchase, so I can get up without stepping on him. Not that I probably won't manage to kick him between the legs while I —

I stop. Look down. My fingers rest on something hard, beneath Ernst's jacket. I flick the fabric aside.

A Colt 1851 Navy revolver.

The awkward pause is almost comical. I'm speechless. Yet I feel as though I saw it coming.

Then I realise I've been ignoring something else, something hard digging into my knees. Namely, two double-action Venezian pistols lashed to Ernst's legs in thigh-holsters. My eyes flick up. Ernst is biting back a smile that for once… looks almost charming.

I still don't know what to say. So I take one of the pistols in my hand and examine it. '…Venezian, 10.35mm. Double-action. Pull-through?'

'Yes. You know your guns.'

'…No trigger guards,' I muse. I snap out of it, yet still give the cylinder of one a light spin. It glides like the pinwheel of a music box. 'These are years old… yet they work like new.'

I press the pistol into Ernst's hand and he slots it back into its holster. 'I take care of my things.'

'Right. So.' I shift my weight and catch his gaze. 'Since when were you in the personal protection service? Because I can't quite see you dirtying those gloved hands.' _At least not in that sense._

He smirks. 'I've piqued your interest, I take it?'

'Stop playing. It's only been mere days since this game started. You're too comfortable with weapons to have picked things up on the job.'

Ernst sighs, and I can see irritation starting to simmer. 'And you're too sharp. Fine, yes. I'd racked up mild acclaim for my skill with a gun over the years. That was enough for Prince Eins, so to speak.'

My thoughts come back to bite me. _"If Count Rosenberg has been here at the university all this time, why didn't I notice him?"_ The only reason for Ernst to change his behaviour and withdraw to the shadows, unconsciously or no, would be if something else had changed. Namely, between him and the prince.

I wait for further explanation. Ernst hooks his fingers into the leather strap over his chest. His eyes flicker, beneath lowered lashes. I want to deny it, but I know what he's feeling. The pain of love and duty inextricably tangled together. 'Actually, I'm afraid this might be your fault, little tutor. Prince Eins heard about your contract with His Majesty.' He shrugs elegantly and laughs, all traces of genuine emotion placed back behind the infuriating smile that I'm all too familiar with. 'His Highness took a fancy to the idea, and I was the nearest person to hand.' He gives me a look. 'For better or worse.'

A half-healed scar aches, at the mention of Viktor's name. Then it hits me. I gasp, as though Ernst had taken the chance to punch me.

Prince Eins.

The princes.

The attacks on the princes.

I barely notice Ernst sitting up and steadying me, before I crumple on top of him, no doubt.

'…he'll be next.' My breath won't come evenly. I lick my lips.

'Prince Eins thinks he'll be next.'

Ernst presses a hand against my back to keep me upright, and rests a hand on his gun. His ruby eyes crystallise in the candlelight. 'Well, that is the idea.'

'…absurd.' I laugh softly. 'This is absurd.' I may be laughing, but inside I feel like I'm going to throw up. Or cry. _No. Please. Make it stop. I want off this. Please…_

I know I'm starting to make Ernst worry. One harsh word from him and I'll probably tumble over the edge and break down crying.

But he says nothing. Which makes it even harder to hate him.

His voice comes in through a haze. 'You should rest. We can take care of things here. You don't need to involve yourself — for your own sake, if nothing else.'

'…I guess you would know this.' The words touch my chapped lips and fall to the carpet. 'As you seem to be familiar with guns yourself.' I flex my fingers, feeling the weight of a weapon that isn't there. 'Often, the longer you shoot, the more you get used to carrying a gun, and it becomes so natural that you can't put the gun down. You get so used to it.'

I get to my feet and cross the room, despite my fever. I stand behind a changing screen. I drop my crumpled nightshirt, and slip on and button my clothes over my scarred skin, putting myself back together, the parts I can, piece by piece in the dark.

Ernst tries to find words, behind me. 'What are you doing? You're… _ill_ , you can't — '

I pull on my jacket, framing a mess in two lines. I try to smile. Broken, so vulnerable, yet I still… I can still keep going. Just a little longer.

'A-After everything, no matter whom. No matter what. I just can't put that gun down. I just can't stay away.'

I slip from behind the folding screen. And look at him. 'Make no mistake. I don't trust you. Between sabotaging the princes and harassing me personally, you've given me every reason not to.' My lips part. A hard slash, somewhat akin to a smile.

He responds in kind, his own smirk sharper than a blade.

I cross the room. 'Yet despite it all, I'd be a fool not to utilise what I have to hand.'

'The enemy of one's enemy is one's friend, no?'

'So what do you say?' Amber and ruby eyes. Two cats in the dark, circling each other for the kill. 'Got any weapons I can borrow?'

 _To be continued..._


	46. Black Siege VIII

**~ Heine ~**

I wait for Rosenberg to bring me some kind of weapon. I place a napkin over the barely-touched plate of food. Enough to keep me going, no more. I'd rather not eat, but I don't know when I'll next get the chance. I grimace. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it down. I don't know what I ate, but it tasted like paper.

I exhale. Breathe. Bring my emotions under control. Whatever happens after this, I'll need to face it with a clear head.

But faint emotions flicker in my chest, amongst the broken pieces. Emotions that I can't make sense of. Why can't I stay away? Is it duty? Loyalty?

 _Maybe I do what I do to help Viktor, thereby helping build this kingdom's future — but maybe I do it purely for him._

My heart still hurts. We fought, and it hurts, and I don't know how to feel about it, but… we were just angry. And we clashed. Angry with the situation, with things that we can't control. Not with each other. I can see that, now that my temper has cooled, but we pressed each other's buttons and sparks flew and it ended in a bang.

I just keep coming back to him. Why? Because of devotion?

The word clicks. The right key for the keyhole in my heart. Devotion: love, loyalty, giving yourself for someone you love, fighting for them until you can't hear their voice anymore. When you orbit so near to them, so fixated, that you collide with them and burn out in a spray of stardust.

It's like looking in a mirror, and seeing him on the other side. Is this how he feels?

I didn't realise.

That devotion can be so truly selfish.

I tip my head back and exhale. Devotion. Loyalty. Love. My eyes flicker open. When do those things start becoming selfish? When does your love for someone become selfish?

Love.

…Can love be selfish?

I can speak five different languages. But I can't explain what's in my heart, even to myself. My perplexity is so great that I wish I could turn my heart off and put it aside. I touch my chest with a fingertip. I feel better, I admit, yet I'm so, so confused.

All I know is that I just can't stop coming back to Viktor. And thinking about him doesn't hurt anymore.

All I know is that I just can't stay away.

'I'm sorry, Viktor. It seems I'm back in the game. Despite everyone's best efforts.'

I swallow past the pain in my throat, and a smile flickers on my face. 'Let's… have a proper argument about it when you get back. And let's make up this time.'

I stand, and gingerly walk a few paces. A fever, nausea, fatigue… but other than that, I can function. The painkillers drugged me up, yet didn't throw me all the way out of the loop. Unlike last time. I wonder how long until everything starts to hurt. My bandaged fingers press against my stomach. I just wish my arm wasn't in a sling.

Rosenberg knocks — this time — and slips in. He presses a revolver into my hand and drops to one knee to strap the accompanying holster to my leg. I wince; he has to draw the buckles to their tightest notches as the only way to keep them on my small legs, but they still hurt. Looks like everything I've put them through — particularly those books falling on them in the library — is finally taking its toll. Feels like years ago. Not days. Not hours.

I inspect the gun. 'A Reichsrevolver. M1879.'

'A classic.'

'A disposable,' I say, giving him an unimpressed look.

'Quite. I'm not having you manage to lose any of my favourites. And try not to shoot yourself in the foot.'

I've been shooting guns longer than he's been alive, but we won't start on that now. I glance at 're certainly not bosom friends, but we're not at each other's throats, at least not at the immediate present. Let's see if we can make that last until we finish this.

As though he feels like he needs to ruin that sentiment, Ernst sweeps me into his arms and carries me out of the room.

'Put me _down_!'

'I'm afraid not. It would be a chore if you keeled over in the hallway. Besides, this reminds me of my family's pet cat.'

I groan. 'You're worse than Prince Kai.'

'Pardon?'

'Forget it. Just walk.'

'Don't give me orders, commoner.'

'And don't — '

I expected Ernst to take me to Eins's chambers at this time of night, yet he makes an abrupt right into a dimly-lit dining room. Eins smokes a pipe at the end of a barren dining table.

He sees us; I feel as though he was expecting us all along, but his eyebrows shoot into his hairline and I colour. I free myself with due haste.

'Good evening, Prince.' The greeting rolls off my tongue naturally after so many seasons in the palace. I bow — and the room spins. Ernst grips my arms and steadies me. Yet another embarrassment.

Eins puts out his pipe. The ashes smoulder in an ashtray. 'In all honesty, you should have _died_ by now, Royal Tutor.'

'…I hate to disappoint, Highness.'

'Good grief.' He scrapes his chair back a touch. 'Sharp wit and a cat's nine lives. There isn't any reason to keep _you_ around anymore, is there Ernst?'

'Ha. Haha, my lord.'

Eins gets up from his chair and approaches, with the unhurried, muscled grace of a hunting dog. To my surprise, he leans down a touch, somewhat nearer my eye level. His eyes are a deep coal-black. 'Truly. What brings you here at this time of night?'

'You wish me to tell you what you already know?'

He chuckles, a grating sound deep in his chest, and leaves me to walk towards the window. 'Intelligent. Perhaps I'll keep him. You can look for other employment, Ernst.'

'You think you'll be the next target,' I say.

The room stills. I continue. 'You hired Ernst as your bodyguard. Apparently inspired by… His Majesty's choice of myself as a bodyguard for the princes.'

'Thank you for stating the obvious, Royal Tutor.' Eins leans against the window. 'Perhaps you would like to get out some coloured pencils and finger puppets, as _kindergarten_ seems to be in session?'

I don't respond. I have a feeling that I've gotten the conversation back on track regardless.

Eins half-sits, leaning against the window and windowsill, watching me all the while. 'Yes. That's the essence of the matter. Ernst has his talents to blame for his circumstances, and that's the end of it.' I glance at Ernst. _He's talented with weapons?_ 'Anything you would like to put on the table?' Eins says.

I turn back to the prince. 'It would unlikely be anything that you yourself do not already know. The four younger princes have been attacked. We believe that Fonseine is connected. And the passed queen.' Eins face doesn't change at the mention of his deceased mother. 'Possibly.'

'That's a pathetic amount of circumstantial evidence, given that there were four separate circumstances.' Eins appraises me, looking me over with such a level of scrutiny that it feels uncomfortable. 'But that's not your fault, supposedly, as it was your job to merely shoot everything that moves and have other people do the intelligent work.'

I feel a faint twinge of annoyance. Even Ernst stiffens, and he plays Eins's games every day. I take a moment to come up with a reply. 'I think you have enough enemies already, Prince. As present circumstances would lead us to believe. Do you believe that you might _die_ if you don't verbally spar with everyone whose paths you cross?'

Even though I believe that it was a fairly good answer, it still was likely to be merely the minumum that Eins expected. An adequate effort, enough for him to ease off. His lips part in an amused smile, and he lifts an eyebrow. Then he changes topics like flipping the hammer of a gun.

'So what on earth do you think you're doing?'

I blink. 'Pardon me?'

Eins lightly taps my chest. I lose my balance and fall into Ernst's arms like a rag doll.

'Don't be cruel, my lord,' Ernst says. 'Besides, I'm the one who has to catch him.'

'My point exactly.' Eins's gaze locks onto my discomfited one. 'You might be feeling better after receiving some medical attention, but you're a walking train wreck. You shouldn't be out of bed; you shouldn't even be able to stand.'

I smile, just a little, yet my canines show. 'Aren't I just a disappointment, then?'

For once, I've finally managed to completely unnerve Prince Eins. I follow up with a second shot. 'I'm cut from a different cloth than you and your sort. Your sort can clock out and withdraw once you're incapacitated.' My gaze hardens. 'Mine can't.'

Eins's eyes travel over me again. 'I think you need to step up your game, Ernst. You have a rather impressive rival.'

'Fine, so he may be better at kicking _sitzfleisch_. But I have better dress sense; you can't dispute it.'

I scoff. 'Doesn't matter if you're dressed fashionably if you're dead.'

'On the contrary — '

'Stop fighting, children.' Eins ends our argument as though he's put it in a box and slapped a lid on it.

I follow his line of sight, out the window. 'Very well,' he says. 'If you wish to get in on the excitement, then help yourself. But don't risk your safety. I'd rather not take responsibility for you only for you to get yourself killed, and we already have every preventative measure in place.'

At that, Ernst gives a salute, one used in the navy. On that note, doesn't he have a Navy Revolver? _Ah._ His cousin Maximilian's father is in the navy. Perhaps Ernst's father is as well, so it could be in the family.

'…And I doubt anything's going to happen tonight. Our villain seems to hit one prince a day, roughly,' Eins says.

'You can't rely on an opponent playing by the rules.' As though I'm trying to contest the prince's likely perfect eyesight, I look over the woods clustered close to the palace walls for myself.

'True.' Eins rests a hand on his hip. 'And I found another connection. One I fear my father overlooked.'

That arouses my interest. 'And you didn't see fit to tell anyone?'

Eins frowns. 'I telegraphed it to the palace.'

Where none of us were earlier this evening. It's likely that Jakob, Viktor's high steward, passed the information onto Viktor on his return. The bitterness of the argument is dulling into an aftertaste, and I can think about him without shutting down now. When Viktor returns, we can work through it together. I already miss him. 'I see,' I reply. 'Care to tell me?'

'I have no reason not to. I found it amusing that you thought Viktor's wife was from Fonseine, by the way. That would have led to a rather unhealthy match between my little sister and their prince.'

'It was an honest mistake. And you can't talk like that when your brother is marrying his own cousin.'

'I'm aware. That aside — I hear you heard got intel from Duchess Arra herself that the passed queen and Fonseine play into this.'

'Oh no, I only shoot everything that moves, Highness. Anything else isn't in the contract.'

'You're amusing, Herr Wittgenstein.' I look at him, surprised. He doesn't look at me, but his expression flickers. 'And people rarely keep track of the threads of a conversation. You almost make this worth my time.' He comes back to the point, and says 'I can see why you jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I think I've worked out who's behind all this.'

'You dropped that statement rather nonchalantly. And how is it that you're clued and everyone at Weisburg isn't?'

'Because I've had the time on my hands to do some digging. Whereas you lot are too busy running head-first into peril and navigating complicated interpersonal relationships on the side.' The sarcasm fairly drips.

'I'm sure you're at the top of the guest list for family reunions, Prince.'

Ernst coughs into a gloved hand, and has to turn his back to compose himself. Eins looks irritated. But underneath, I think he might be amused. His expression darkens. 'The Fonseinian connection is real. I followed the puppet strings back to the puppeteer, and a Fonseinian citizen is masterminding this.'

'I see. And the queen?'

'Also real. So to speak. The man we're after was the queen's — '

Something glints on my glasses lenses. 'Stop.'

Eins blinks. He looks down at me.

I don't breathe. Quiet, poised. Again, there. 'Step backwards. _Now_.'

Eins steps back, light on his feet — the window explodes in a spray of glass, fractured by a bullet.

I already have an arm to my face to shield against the icy hail. 'Move! Away from the windows!'

I snap the curtains shut, yet they can still shoot through the windows anyway — and a bullet zips over my head — would have taken my head _off_ if I were taller — and it's all I can do to keep my reactive processes functioning.

Ernst smothers the candles and blackens the room; bullets zip overhead at intervals, slicing up the moon, our only light. I risk running to another window despite Ernst reaching to pull me back to safety; I make it, shoulders heaving, my back to the wall. 'If they're shooting from there then they could be approaching from there. We need to know what we're dealing with.' I risk glancing, through the crack at the edge of the curtains, knowing I could take a shot to the head at any second.

The shooter is now firmly locked in my view, yet — my heart starts beating out a frightened staccato rhythm. 'We're at the back of the palace? Your guards are at the front?' My voice slides into a rough accent, strained with panic.

Eins's teeth show white, in the barest grimace. He knows what I'm going to say.

'They're coming. Armed. From the back.'

And the night explodes into flame.

I make a dive for cover, out of the firing line, but the afterglow of the flames and figures swarming the lawn burns in my eyes. Eins flips a table on its side and the three of us take shelter from the hail, hearts pounding.

A brick smashes through the window and dumps glass beneath the curtains. 'So what now — '

Eins swears. His fist cracks against the table leg, and frustration pours off him. Ernst's eyes widen. 'Oh _. The palace staff.'

I grimace. 'Wonderful. How many?'

'There are about twenty people on the premises.'

'D_.' Twenty civilians that we need to get off the grounds or this will become a _massacre_.

The foundations of the palace shudder, and dust rains from the ceiling. Bullets fill the air in an angry swarm, shattered glass sprays over every surface.

I can see Eins's eyes flickering, calculating as fast as he can. He gets up and yanks us to the side of the room in a break in the gunfire, and snags a rifle off the wall; tosses it to Ernst who catches it with one hand. 'I have a feeling that we're dealing with mercenaries. Help the servants get out. If the palace goes down in flames, they'll be trapped.'

Ernst's ruby eyes narrow. '…You're my responsibility, Prince.'

Eins stalks to the door, and snaps over his shoulder, 'And those people are _my_ responsibility, and now they're _yours_. It's called delegating. _Move it_.'

'Roger.' And Ernst sprints into the dark.

Leaving me with Eins.

'We need to go,' I say. Sharp winds cut through the broken windows, blowing drifts of glass and ash over the carpet. 'This room is going to be our coffin at this rate.'

Eins takes me by the wrist and pulls me from the room. 'You have a talent for stating the obvious.' Moonlight slats the corridor as we run. 'Will I need to watch out for you? Because I won't have the time either way.'

'No, Prince.' The windows glow a molten orange. Stone crumbles and moans beneath us. 'Likewise. Are you expecting me to fill in for Ernst?'

He scoffs. 'Hardly. Still, if it will give you something to do — ' We slam the door to his office behind us, and bolt it.

'We can't stay here either. If they know the palace layout, they can just shoot us through the window.'

Eins flips up the mantlepiece of the fireplace; he takes out a rifle and slings it over his shoulder. The dress sword was wearing earlier is still strapped to his waist. 'I'm aware.' He glances at me, then conjures another revolver out of thin air and tosses it over.

I catch, spin, and draw it. 'What now?'

'We're rejoining Ernst — ' The floor shakes underfoot, nearly throwing us to the ground. Eins steadies himself with a hand on his desk. I wonder if he's feeling any fear, inside. Enemy troops storming your home would scare anyone, wouldn't it? 'We can't leave until everyone is out,' he says.

An ugly roar rises. Stone shatters, and we flinch, realising what's happened. 'D_ it,' I say. 'They've breached the palace walls. They either want to kill you, or burn the palace and take us all down with it. And you don't think you need to get to safety?'

'These people are in my care; I can't leave until they're all safe.'

'As you wish.' For a second, I wish that we could stay here, in this room. Safe. Safe and not having to run, not while I'm sick and tired and dizzy. Safe until it all blows over. But at this rate, the palace will go up in flames — and being burnt alive is not the way I want to go down.

Iron clangs against the window. Eins throws the curtain aside: a grappling hook's fangs have pierced the window frame. And the rope is taut, being climbed.

Eins draws his sword but I pull him back. 'Stop — they'll shoot you from below. Run!'

'Tch.' We run from the room and slam the door shut. Footsteps thunder behind us and a weight slams into the door and Eins throws himself against it, but there are no locks or bars on this side. Smoke and flame lick at the cracks, spilling through each time the door shudders and buckles and cracks. Framing the prince in a deathly glow.

It's a double door. One, two. One, two.

'Now.' Eins rips the door open and the man crashes head-first into the wall opposite, and we're down the hall before he even hits the ground.

We run down a spiral staircase. Hellish sounds rise from every corner of the palace, as it falls to the attacking forces. 'Where would Ernst be?'

'If they're breaching the walls at the back, then everyone should be fleeing out the front entrance.'

'Lucky.' The word strikes a strange chord. But now isn't the time to wonder why.

We round a corner. A maid skitters down the steps and runs out the open doors of the palace entrance. Safe. I can see shadows fleeing for their lives, but I don't think everyone's safe yet —

To our left, Ernst and one of the other servants sprint out of the smoke, running for the doors. Ernst skids to a halt at our side. Eins steps back, scanning the dark. 'Is that everyone?'

'Almost.' Ernst gasps for breath. The chambers of his rifle have been emptied. 'Listen, you need to hear this, we — '

' _S-Stay away_!'

We whirl around. Two maids are trapped at the top of the staircase at the other end of the hall, and the doors below have buckled under the force of the mercenaries smashing them in, mercenaries who see them and hear their screams.

 _Oh for_ —

Eins throws his rifle to Ernst and the prince and I are already running — I stash my gun away — freeing my one good hand — and dart and bound over the distance, spanning the gap and ascending the wall as fast as I can parkour, and I draw my other gun, tearing through the air, over Eins as he charges in with his sword drawn in a blur of silver.

Heavy metal impact and I drop to the girls' sides, 'Hurry!' and they snatch my outstretched hand and we run —

Time slows — Eins's sword arcs over our heads, over the steps, and we're past and running over a too-long stretch of marble — one man splinters off and chases us, a smashed beam of wood in hand — _we can't run fast enough_ —

' _Ernst_!' He nods and drops to one knee, takes aim, and I pull the girls down as the bullet zips overhead and past and hits dead-centre, streaking a violent spray of blood all the way down the marble.

I push the to their feet and they run as though their feet are on fire. Safe.

Eins. I jump to my feet; he's being overpowered, losing his balance in a blaze of silver.

'Prince!' Ernst yells.

Eins breaks away and runs for it, and Ernst covers his back with gunfire, the two of them moving in sync and wreaking enough havoc to cover our desperate flight out of the palace.

Safe. Or so we want to tell ourselves.

Cold and dark bite at our skin. The palace guards are scattered, and scrambling to deal with the intruders, outnumbered, and I have a feeling that we'll need to fend for ourselves.

We turn back to see smoke pluming from the depths of the palace. Eins and Ernst glance at each other.

Eins rubs the back of his neck, tracing blood and filth over his skin. 'I imagine I'll be hearing about this from the Council.'

Ernst chuckles. He rests a hand on Eins's shoulder. 'Quite. Thank goodness that Glanzreich got around to adopting national insurance.'

It seems these two are even more resilient than I gave them credit for. I smile, just a little.

Eins exhales and weighs up the mess before us. 'We have to finish this up. All the staff are off the premises, it seems. I'll join the Royal Guard and sort this out, if you want to — '

A single white envelope lies on the driveway.

I point. 'Is that yours?'

Silence.

My vision blurs. Blurs to a letter that held death threats and a lock of blond hair. I pick it up. Open it.

Ernst touches Eins's arm, and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. 'This came through when I was clearing the west wing of the palace.'

Smouldering ash spatters the two pieces of paper.

'The princes have been taken stop. All of them stop. Return to palace immediately stop.' I stagger. The telegram rips in Eins's hands.

The text flames on the letter in my own hands. 'Retrace your steps,' I whisper.

There's no one to catch me this time. My knees buckle and hit the flagstones. The letter falls from my fingers. _Retrace your steps?_ Does that mean… It's happening all over again? My chest constricts, choking the breath from my lungs. Raischt? The Karlsburgs' mansion? The university? The Ringstrasse?

Whip. Poison. Blade. Bullet.

Leonhard. A scared, terrified whimper rips out of me. No.

Licht.

Bruno.

Kai.

No.

No no no no _no_ —

 _All at once,_ and I fall over the edge.

 _To be continued…_


	47. Black Siege IX

**~ Heine ~**

Sharp pains grip my chest, my ribs. The flagstones beneath my knees and hands melt and spin. My breath catches and stops and starts. I think I'm… I may be… having a panic attack.

I vaguely feel someone's hand on my shoulder.

'…Herr Wittgenstein. Heine!'

'He's in shock. He… could be having a heart attack…'

All at once. All of them at once — _I won't be able to protect all of them at once._ The foreshadowing feels like a knife in my gut. W-What do I do? I… Which one? I choke. I can't breathe. I have to choose, how am I meant to _choose_ — I can't — Raischt is miles away, and I still have to get back to the palace — I can barely even _walk_ —

I force myself up, and stand, unsteadily. Can I run? I choke back a sob. I'll have to. At least my legs aren't broken —

' _Royal Tutor!_ '

The yell hits me and nearly knocks me over. It stuns me, but I don't turn. 'I-I have to go. I — '

'And do what?' Eins's words stab my back, one blade after another. 'Cross the kingdom on foot? You can barely walk, let alone — '

I snap. The chains holding everything back shatter and I whirl around. 'You think I've got a choice?! No one else is going to do it, no one else is going to help me — so you just _shut_ _up._ '

And Prince Eins finally shuts up. It took the better part of the evening.

…But that's what it comes down to, isn't it? No one's going to help me. I used up all my second chances years ago. I lost the right to ask for help. I have to fix it on my own.

Like always.

'…Have you ever asked?'

I blink. 'What?'

Eins has a strange expression on his face. 'Have you ever asked. For help.'

…I have. Before. Over and over. But no one… ever…

I look at him, the crown prince of the kingdom, the smartest, the brightest, the most highly esteemed. But all I can see is a royal that has no idea. No concept.

'And who…' I say softly. 'Who do you think would help someone like _me_?'

And I can see everything that I'm saying with my eyes stab him right through the chest.

Ash and powdered glass. And a cold wind. Nothing else, nothing left to say.

Ernst's eyes flicker and he smothers the emotion in his eyes. He glances at Eins.

'Then ask,' Eins says.

'…What?'

He touches my shoulder, then digs his fingers in and wrenches my head up to his. 'Ask for help. I can't pretend to know about your past — but are you _blind_? What about my brothers? My father? You've wrapped the royal family, the _kingdom_ , around your finger and you don't even have a d_ed _clue_?! Can't you see that some people, heaven _forbid_ , may actually even care?!'

 _Care about… me?_

Ernst lightly prises the prince's fingers off me, only to take me for himself. 'Listen, tutor,' he says. 'He's right. Get a d_ed clue. If you're going to be a thorn in my side, however _small_ , then at least pretend as though you know what a blasted clever nuisance you are. Got it?'

He lets me go, and backs off. I'm frozen. And I feel as though I may have been turned to stone, as well, for good measure.

Ernst gives Eins a light dig in the ribs, and gives him a smile. 'And that reminds me — as though you're one to talk about asking for help, my lord. So?' He looks at me. 'Are you going to take us up on our offer, or not? Ask already.'

Two of my arch nemeses are offering me their help. I have sufficient grounds to be terrified now.

Ernst glances at the palace. 'And hurry up with your answer, because we have things that we really should be doing instead.' A chunk of stonework plummets from the burning palace roof and shatters beside us, to accentuate his point.

'Y-You'd help… Me?' Something breaks, inside. But I can't accept it, I can't believe him. 'B-But, what about your home, it's — '

Eins runs a hand through his hair. 'What's done is done. It's already in flames. I have more pressing concerns now: My brothers, and you. And we're not helping you.'

I blink.

'The survival of the kingdom is at stake and you're merely implicated in it. We admittedly have our points of contention, but personal preference is irrelevant in the face of a situation like this. We have to cooperate for the greater good; no more, no less.'

'As he says,' Ernst says. 'I'd rather see you dead, but if Prince Eins is aligning himself with you, then I'm bound to serve him, and you by extension.'

I'm too stunned to even appreciate the fact that I finally have the upper hand on the infamous Count Rosenberg, likely for the first and only time ever.

'…Watch your mouth, Ernst.'

'Yes, yes.'

And they both look at me.

And the weight of the situation sets in. My fingers tremble. I could give in. I want to. I want to fix this. _Viktor…_

 _God, please save Viktor, I'll do anything._

My eyes widen.

And before I can think twice, I take the knife and score my heart, and make the prayer.

 _God, please help me save the princes._

'…Please.'

 _I'll do anything._

'Help me.'

 _I'll even work with my worst enemies._

'I need your help. Please.'

Eins passes me and touches my shoulder with the barest hint of awkwardness — then gives me a sharp smile. A chill bolts down my spine. Whether he planned it or not, I just played right into his hands. And there is no chance in h_ that he won't pass up future opportunities to hold this over my head.

I think I just sold my soul to the prince of darkness. Yet there's one way I can get out of this, a gamble, but throw the dice I must.

'Don't even try, Prince.'

He looks at me as though he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

I lower my voice. 'I just saved your life. If anything, now we are merely even.'

'…Astute, Herr Wittgenstein. But we shall see.' The edges of his teeth show in his smile. 'We shall see how much you end up owing me by the end of the night.'

And this what scares me — not assassins, not dying — but this prince, who can survive a coup d'eat, all the while planning how to blackmail and exploit his allies.

I choke down my hammering heart. 'We have more important things to be worrying about, Highness.'

I finally get through to him, and a shift in his expression highlights it. 'That we do.' He removes his hand and dusts it off on his coat, as though to scrape away any traces of human emotion or concern, faked or otherwise. 'Then let's go.'

The palace's front doors sag on their hinges and collapse, spewing smoke, and — mercenaries.

'Nice of them to wait until we were done with our heart-to-heart,' Ernst remarks, and we sprint out of their line of sight, to the stables. To our surprise, we find a carriage waiting on the paving stones outside, already harnessed up. 'Wait… who would have done this?' Ernst asks.

Eins heads into the stables. 'Joenston, probably. Providing for us to make our escape before fleeing himself.'

'Then what are we waiting for?'

Eins looks out the stable window. To the mercenaries roaming the grounds. '…If we take the carriage, they'll gun it down.'

I look at the sleek black carriage. 'And it wouldn't hold out long enough to get away?'

'Not worth the risk. And I can't see any of us volunteering stand up top and drive. So.' The shadows stretch over the lawn, stumbling closer. Eins leads a black stallion from its stall with the familiarity of a master and steed that have known each other for a long time. 'I hope you can ride horseback.'

I show my teeth in a grin, without humour. 'I don't know how to ride _with_ a saddle.'

'Good.' Eins jumps astride — and Ernst passes me up like a parcel. With a wink. Eins pulls me on and douses me in shadow, his solid frame at my back, against my shoulder blades.

'But what about — '

Ernst vaults up behind us with an easy grace. 'Don't worry. You're such a tiny thing that we may as well be riding doubles.'

I make an irritated noise. Then forget, and focus on getting a better grip, leaning into the horse as Eins guides it to the stable doors. It's a little higher than what I'm used to.

Eins whispers something, something I don't catch. So I nearly jump out of my skin when Ernst fires a round at the carriage and terrifies the harnessed horse into running and dragging the rig with it in a deafening clatter of harness and wheels.

Shouts. And bullets pepper it from every angle and riddle the horse and the polished doors with holes. Eins guides us out, and we make a break for it while the fools chase the carriage like dogs after a stick, the horse's dying shrieks echoing in my ears. And judging by the way that the reins cut into Eins's fingers, it's echoing in his ears too.

We cut though the woods, over a fence, into an alley, and into the streets of Wienner. My heart's still hammering from the rush, and it's not going to quiet any time soon. 'That felt well-practiced.'

It's strange, going down the silent streets in the middle of the night. 'No. Just well-planned.'

We ride in silence. The spires and roof of Weisburg Palace come into view. Still bathed in a sea of golden lights, even at this late hour.

Eins commanders the situation immediately, leaving our horse with a footman and stalking into the palace — leading the three of us up the steps and through the palace.

' _Heigile __ ,' Eins whispers.

The palace looks like it's been rocked by a hurricane.

 _To be continued…_


	48. Black Siege X

**~ Heine ~**

Smashed glass. Broken-down doors, guards milling and scattering in panic, and maids either running around or hiding, not daring to emerge.

And so, so many bloodstains and guards strewn across the floor.

'…What happened?' Eins catches a soldier by the arm and demands, 'What happened?!'

'I don't know — oh, no — _someone put out that fire!_ ' he yells, and rips out of Eins's grasp and runs down a corridor filled with smoke and shadows, with several other soldiers.

'Royal Tutor!'

Someone runs up and rests his hands on his knees, gasping for breath, yet pours the words out as fast as he can: it's Herr Fuches. 'The dungeons… a jailbreak…' He forces himself upright and says it, 'One of the prisoners led a jailbreak and kidnapped the princes.'

I flinch.

Eins crosses his arms, and his fingers dig into the fabric. 'All by himself?'

'No. With some of the prisoners.' He looks at me, and I can see the fear in his eyes, and I know why before he even says the words. 'All the prisoners that you put away over the past week.'

The ex-tutor. The blackmailer. The gunmen. The assassins. The shooter. My hand involuntarily covers my mouth. I lower it. '…And naturally, all the other prisoners were happy to go to town and wreck the palace.'

I realise that Herr Fuches is shaking. He must be the same age as Prince Kai. 'Those of us who weren't hiding and trying not to get murdered by the others or shot by the guards.'

Ernst presses his lips together. 'And where in blazes were all the guards during this, pray tell?'

'I don't know. But I heard that apparently the guard rotations were changed in the palace, and this single-handedly wiped out any soldiers remaining.'

'It's him,' Eins mutters. 'For certain, that seals it.'

'Whom?'

Eins ignores me and snatches Ernst and I by the arms, physically pushing us down the hallway.

I wrest free from his grip and reach out a hand to Herr Fuches. 'Wait, do you know which one was the leader?' A nod, and I ask, 'Do you remember when he got there?'

My heart stutters, threatening to stop, hanging on his answer — on the slimmest chance that he paid attention to the constant influx of prisoners that came into the palace dungeon.

'For Prince Kai's sake. I beg you.'

He checks them off on his fingers as fast as he can. 'The one that was on death row on day one; then the man from day two that you came and interrogated; then no one on day three; then of the three men from day four, it was the second one, who they said didn't shoot at the prince.'

The second gunman at the university. The one that we all wondered about his reason for being there.

'He placed himself there,' Eins says. 'The mastermind of the operation and he placed himself in the dungeon on purpose, early enough in the game to avoid suspicion, and to be right there at the palace to stage the jailbreak.'

'One more word and I'm going to punch something.'

'One more word and I'm going to _shoot_ something.'

'Save it for later, both of you,' Eins orders, and shoves Fuches into the care of a nearby soldier and pushes us down the corridor faster than we can walk.

Maids whisper in clusters, in worry, and the halls are far too busy for this time of night. As they should be, seeing as all the palace's princes were just abducted.

'All four of them. From the palace,' I mutter; anger growls, savagely, deep inside. Of all places, they should have been safe here. Yet in one night someone made a repeat performance what has been unfolding all week.

'You've already been thinking there's someone inside, haven't you?' Eins says. He looks just as disgusted with the state of affairs as I am. 'Aside from the jailbreak leader.'

'It's the only way. Especially given this turn of events. And _especially_ in the light of the jailbreak.' We arrive at Viktor's office, and pull up in front of the doors. _At least Viktor's out of the country_ , I think, as we pass through the doors. No guards, as there's nothing inside to protect. _At least I won't have to worry about him._

Jakob Frien waits for us, inside.

I stop.

Jakob. Viktor's high steward. His confidante. A close friend. One who has control over the palace and the guard rotations and even the king's personal affairs.

Eins pushes Ernst out of the way and holds me back — both of us thinking I might do something I'll regret.

'Herr Frien.' My voice comes out ice-hard. 'We received a telegram from the palace.'

Jakob brushes his hair out of his eyes, revealing deep shadows and pained eyes. 'Yes. That was me. I need your help.'

'I'll be glad to put an end to your _guilt_ , if you wish — '

Eins holds me tighter, his arms solid bars against my chest and arms. 'Calm down,' he mutters in my ear. 'Calm down.'

The red clears from my vision, and I force myself to take a breath. 'Forgive me. I just find the idea that the he betrayed his king sickening.'

'I know.' Jakob's voice drops to a whisper. 'I know.'

'The misplaced telegrams. Assassins gaining access to the palace. The altered guard rotations. All the different things — it was all you.'

'Yes. It was.'

'Talk,' Eins says, and his voice comes out even harsher than my own. 'How long have you been implicated in this?'

Jakob meets our eyes, looks from Eins to me. 'For most of it. A while ago, His Majesty went on an overseas trip. When I was organising his office for his return, there was a note on the desk, saying to look underneath.'

'Underneath?'

'Someone put a bomb under His Majesty's desk.'

I flinch. 'Y-You can't be serious. How would one even…'

Jakob doesn't blink. 'You can look if you wish.'

And despite a voice in my head screaming at me not to, I do. Eins releases me and I walk over to the desk; I kneel, and see the metal cylinder and wires and boxes all strapped and bolted to the underside of the very desk that Viktor and I talked and shared a drink at only the other _day_.

I'm starting to feel unwell now. 'Viktor even hit his knees on his desk. I noticed.'

'You can see how things went from there. His Majesty is almost always at his desk, and even if he wasn't, that's still a high-grade explosive device in the palace. I had to do everything I was asked. All the things you said. If I didn't, if I told someone, they would detonate the bomb and I — '

Jakob's voice breaks. He chokes. 'At least if they set the bomb off regardless, it would kill me as well.'

Second-hand pain burns through me, because I know the feeling.

Abuse. Every time, someone's been abused. Violated. Hurt.

'No.'

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I know it's true. 'What else would you have done? What else _could_ you have done? You were merely being blackmailed.' I get up, and get a safe distance from the bomb. Well, comparatively safe. 'We'll deal with that later, we have more pressing problems — now that the princes are missing. How did that happen?' I ask.

'I was told to rearrange the guard rotations. I thought someone was going to enter from outside; I didn't know what was going to happen until I heard the chaos begin to unfold.' He clears his throat. 'I could only attempt to tell you of all of this — telegram you — once His Majesty was out of danger. The risk was too great, prior — if not the king, then one of the princes, and so on. And as the jailbreak and the princes' abductions literally overlapped with his departure, I physically could not get that news to you until it was all over, with the state the palace was in.'

And I see the blood dripping from his leg, a deep cut. Gained from trying to brave the halls of cutthroats and murders to get the telegram to us. Ignored in the face of what he blames himself for.

I soften my voice. 'I can see that.' And I can see his gratitude for my words.

I return to the matter at hand. 'The whole matter was all ill timing. No, wait — it was probably intentional.' I've got a headache from trying to follow three different lines of thought at once, but something keeps resurfacing.

I turn to Eins. 'You were telling me who was behind this. When we were getting shot at, at Schwarz Palace — '

He covers my mouth to shut me up and crosses the room, to the desk, his eyes locked on a glass jar of pills. The same one that I saw Viktor taking pills from.

'His Majesty only started that medication this week. He already had it checked — '

'And it could have been tampered with at any point after that. Use your head.'

'It was,' Jakob confirmed. 'I was instructed to change the medication to a depressant — '

Eins takes one of the pills, and bites a fragment off. He pauses. 'He's telling the truth. It's an opiate. A less commonly used narcotic. It has addictive qualities, and…' He checks the jar. 'He's been dosing far too often for how long since he would have been prescribed it. He's been unconsciously taking more than his symptoms would even require, because of addiction. An easy way to incapacitate him. At the very least, it would slow him down.'

I'm frozen, staring at the broken pill in Eins's hand. _Why didn't Viktor tell me he was so ill?_

And another thought seeks an audience. … _How does Prince Eins know all of this?_ But more importantly… 'To what end would someone attempt to — '

Something scrapes at the door.

And our conversation turns static.

All three of us have our weapons drawn before we can think: a Reichsrevolver, a Venezian M1889 revolver, and a double-edged rapier.

Scrape, scrape. A low whine. It takes a moment for the sound to register.

I open the door, ignoring everyone's protests —

And Shadow, the palace dog, sits outside.

Ernst drops his gun hand to his side in disbelief. 'What the… What is a _dog_ doing here?'

Then Shadow barks, pushing past us. And the noise I hear at my back makes my heart skip a beat.

A sleepy girl's voice mumbles something, out of sight. 'Nnnh, Shaaadooow?'

And Princess Adele sits up in Viktor's desk chair. Half-awake and blissfully unaware of the bomb literally at her feet.

I laugh. Because this is getting preposterous.

'W-why are you — ' Ernst snaps out of it and snatches my shoulder. ' _It could kill her,_ _idiot_!'

'Sorry,' I say, already sober again and sick with dread. 'Hysteria induced by panic. I'll book myself in for therapy after this.'

Princess Adele is fully awake now. She looks uncertain and out of place in Viktor's large, throne-like chair. No doubt waking up to see a group of armed individuals has something to do with her wariness. Then, again, that could just be wariness of Eins. Not exactly known for his love of children, to put it lightly.

Even Jakob looks shocked, so at least I won't have to track him down and kill him if the princess dies.

'Professor Heine?' she asks.

I… what do I say? My eyes land on the thinnest silver wire, trailing beneath a rug, hidden, trailing out a window. I curse under my breath. The bomb's still live. It could still go off, if there's someone manning the detonator. Ernst and Eins stiffen, as they see it too. Jakob could have cut the wire and disarmed it, but my own knowledge of explosives isn't thorough enough to be confident that the wire being cut would guarantee our safety. I look at Jakob, and he shakes his head, saying that he hasn't touched it.

Despite being frozen in shock, I'm still evaluating nonetheless. And the conclusion is rather obvious. There are a lot of people in this room that someone might want dead. Especially me.

So that bomb could still go off somewhere in the immediate future.

I smile, awkwardly, as it feels completely out of place in the tension-wound situation. I hold out my hands to Adele. And I'm praying that I haven't underestimated her childish obsession with me — as her very life depends on it.

'Good evening, Princess. Why are you here at this time of night?'

'I couldn't sleep.' She looks a touch irritated. 'Everyone was still up. So I went to see what was happening and I got lost, then I came to Daddy's office…'

 _She slept through the jailbreak?_ I feel sick, that same giddy, sick feeling you get when you realise that you walked right past someone holding a knife and you could have been stabbed. _She could have been kidnapped, and the only reason she didn't was because she wasn't in her room? Thank God._

'Well, it is getting late,' I say. 'You should go to bed. Do you want me to take you?'

Her eyes light up. She springs down from the chair, runs past the desk. Past the bomb. Steps on the wire.

All four of us flinch —

Her little feet tap over the carpet, her fingers touch mine —

I sweep her into my arms, and turn and stride towards the door. Her arms cling around my neck, she looks at me, startled. 'Professor Heine? Is this a game — '

The bomb hasn't gone off, but then I hear footsteps on the roof —

Ernst follows on my heels, Eins snatches Jakob's wrist, and we run into the hallway, Eins reaches to close the door and —

BOOM

It rocks the hallway, swiping us off our feet. The doorway spews shrapnel. I crouch over Adele and wood and glass batters me in a hail. I can barely hear her scream.

A shriek of metal. I look up — the final fraying thread holding the chandelier above our heads snaps — it falls, I brace myself — yet it doesn't hit us, but the weight of it explodes. I hear a pained gasp and crystal sprays like a fountain. Eins. He covers us, broken glass and metal scraps falling from his back.

Then the floor shifts, moans, and stone crumbles and skews the whole floor sideways, sending us all careening down a slope. The hole opens up like a sinkhole, marble and stone crashing to the next floor down, row after row plummeting and grinding up anything that goes down with it.

Screams ricochet below.

I can't stop, too fast, I can't get a hold of anything — a slab of stone nearly sends us flying, and crushes a chair below to a point beyond recognition. Adele shrieks, clinging to me for dear life. _Think —_

I rip my teacher's pointer from my belt, and flick it, begging — we fall —

And Eins snatches it, and Ernst claws a grip on Eins's coat, and digs his heels in, and Jakob pulls him back —

And we stop.

The final fragments of stone fall. Adele and I dangle above what looks like a bomb sight and an earthquake epicentre, all in one.

Dust rains.

Adele's arms quiver around my neck. 'I don't like this game, Professor Heine.'

The people in the room below emerge from the dust and mess, shaken, but intact. I press my free hand into Adele's hair. 'I don't either, Princess.'

Eins and Ernst pull us up, and I crash to my knees, Adele still in my arms. 'I'll have to work out how to explain that one to Viktor when he gets back,' I mumble.

'I think that's the least of our problems,' Eins says, and drops to one knee at my side. The dust-filled air casts him in heavy shadow, and with the sword at his side, he looks downright dangerous.

Adele looks up to see who's speaking. ' _Eyaaagh!_ '

I confess, I wouldn't want to run into Eins at night in a dark alleyway either.

'It's all right, it's just Prince Eins,' I prompt. 'Your brother?'

She stares at him for a minute. 'Is he the cross one?'

Ernst chokes, and laughs. Eins narrows his eyes but says nothing.

I catch sight of Jakob over their shoulders, and I remember that we have a lot to do.

I get up and dust myself off, still holding Adele. Ernst passes my revolver back to me. I managed to lose it in the mess — the other revolver is stashed in the waistband of my trousers. Adele's eyes widen.

We pick our way out of the crumbling mess, finally reach solid ground, and I pass Adele off to two maids. 'Goodnight, Princess.' I drop a kiss on her forehead, and she waves, still dazed, and is carried off.

I turn to Jakob. 'You're going to have to take care of things here. We have to get going.'

He stammers a protest, then realises I mean it. So he accepts it. 'As you wish. Good luck.'

'We'll need more than luck.'

Then two guards sprint around the corner and nearly crash into us: Maximilian and Ludwig, bruised, battered, and out of breath as through they'd run all the way from the other side of the palace.

'We ran all the way from the other side of the palace!' Maximilian blurts.

 _De ja vu._

Ludwig gets his breath first, and looks from me to Eins and Count Rosenberg, the words comign out in a tangle, 'We only just returned from escorting Lady Beatrix back to her residence — we came back to _this_ ; we were set upon by a gang of death-row convicts and had to fight our way through — ' _Death-row. They could have died,_ ' — what happened, are the princes — '

I see their wounds and injuries. My breath hitches. I swallow. I shake my head, biting back an emotion that I can't allow myself right now. 'Gone. Kidnapped. All of them.'

Maximilian turns away and puts his fist through the wall, shoulders shaking with frustration and fragments of swear words.

The gravity of the situation hits hard, and Ludwig's fingers clench on the hilt of his sword until the wood threatens to crack.

I rest my hand on his. 'Don't. Please. We don't know what the total damage is, but there were potentially even lives lost among the Guard. Even if you were here, you could have died rather than been able to help. It may not seem fair, but you've been spared regardless and we need all the help we can get while there's still hope.'

And that's what's going to give them the energy to keep going: that faint sliver of hope. They snap to attention and salute. 'Orders, Herr Wittgenstein?'

Eins looks surprised — that they're asking me for orders when he's the one and only member of royalty present.

But I'm the princes' bodyguard.

I click my fingers and point. 'Maximilian, guard Princess Adele. She was overlooked and spared in the kidnappings, and needs protection. Ludwig, I need you to get word to the army's generals: national emergency. Go.'

And they take off, sprinting so fast that their shoes cut the carpet.

'Ah, to be young,' Ernst says.

I look at Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg. Three of us. Four princes.

I turn back to Jakob and say, 'Actually, we need a favour. We're going to need bullets. A lot of them. Where's the palace armoury?'

Ernst smirks. Eins raises an eyebrow. The clock strikes eleven. Jakob tosses me the keys and I holster my gun and the three of us make a run for it.

 _To be continued…_


	49. Black Siege XI

**~ Leonhard ~**

It hurts to wake up.

My eyes open to stacks of books and a darkened space that opens up, and it snaps me back into the land of the living. 'The national… library?'

A shudder pulses through me. Ropes cut into my arms, my chest, lashing me to a chair. My breath clouds, melts in the forsaken hall, disappears among the bookshelves.

My heart won't stop hammering. All I can remember are the hands. Lunging from the dark, snatching me. And the screaming. Then I woke up here.

The library sleeps, empty. 'H-Hello?'

Heine didn't tell me how to untie myself from a chair.

Then the door swings open. He lopes down the aisle, stepping past rows of desks.

My heart skips a beat and stutters to a halt. My blood pools. Then my heart kicks back to life, pouring out _so_ much adrenaline.

'What — Wh— H-How?' The words nearly shatter and spill everywhere.

Because it's Herr Graaz.

And he's nearly on me before I realise I'm in trouble.

I snap my shoulders back and the chair rocks, but I can't topple it, can't free my arms. The ropes burn into my chest, cutting thick and cruel. My breath rasps, hurts my lungs, and he keeps getting closer and closer — no — _no —_

He drops a hand on my shoulder. The fear skyrockets. No — _NO_ — _!_

'You're not hurt, are you?'

The wind goes out of my sails. Tears freeze on my cheeks. '…Huh?'

He drops to one knee at my side, and I flinch, shoulders raised and tensed. His eyes roam my body. I can't stop shaking. 'I'm sorry for the abrupt method of transportation,' he says. He stops. His brow creases. He brushes a finger over my cheekbone, over he half-healed nick that was cut by his whip. His touch makes me want to throw up.

I've had it. So I bite his finger, taste blood and slam a kick into his shins. He buckles, andgasps. I jerk my head away. 'Get your mitts off, _commoner._ '

He looks at me, stunned, yet… he doesn't argue. 'I'm sorry,' he says. His voice drops a note. 'I'm sorry, my prince.'

'I'm not your prince — and if I have to get my father to expatriate you to make it so then so _be it_.'

Despite everything, I have to allow myself a brief smirk. _Heh, Heine, look at me now. Five-syllable vocabulary words, in a sentence and everything!_ But only because he's not touching me, not pressuring me, do I have this slim, temporary confidence.

'As you wish,' he says. Neither of us say anything for a minute.

'I'm sorry. Your Highness.'

My chest hurts. I stare at him. Shaking, infuriated. 'You're sorry? You _attacked_ me and you're _sorry_? You whipped me, you were going to — ' The words tangle into a sob, and I can't help it, can't bring myself under control again. Can't find the steel that I wielded for that one minute.

Pain writes itself deeply into Herr Graaz's features. 'It seems I played my part too well.'

I sniff, and rub away tears on my shoulder. 'What do you mean?'

'I never wanted to hurt you, Prince.'

My jaw drops, and I spit an argument, but he moves to where I can see him. He places the revolver that I didn't realise he had on the table and raises his hands, rendering himself unarmed.

'And given what I've done, that comes off as complete rot. I'm aware.' He traces a circle on his palm, looking for words. '…I was pathetic. I went after you with a riding crop in a fit of anger, when I was your tutor. It was horrific. I never knew how poor my grip on my temper was until I saw you crying at my hand that day. I hated myself every single day afterwards.'

'I… When you apologised…' I look away. 'I thought it was only because my father made you, because you got caught.' That's what I thought. Because no tutor would ever apologise for beating me, regardless of whether I deserved it or not. I've been through it enough times to know.

'Believe me, please. I regret it deeply and I still do. But that doesn't atone for the fact that that is what happened.' He runs a hand through his hair. 'I never went back to teaching after that. I couldn't trust myself. Then recently someone came to me, said they would give me the opportunity to get back at you.'

 _What?_

Herr Graaz laughs humourlessly. 'I spat in their face.'

I blink. '…?'

'I refused. The only reason I would ever place myself in your path would be to apologise, and how can you apologise for something like that? So I said no. Then things got uncomfortable and I ended up taking them up on it.'

'But _why_ then — '

'They told me they could send someone else after you instead.' _Someone else._ My chest tightens. _Someone even worse. '_ I thought at least I would be able to keep you safe.'

 _Someone even worse._

It feels as though the floor is crumbling under my feet. 'B-but, you tried to…'

'I wasn't trying to whip you. On the contrary, I did everything in my power to not touch you.' My expression says enough. 'I know. I know. So I tried to protect you as much as I could. You cut yourself on the knife I had because you moved.'

'But you slapped me.'

His shoulders cave in. 'I'm sorry. I had to follow the script.'

'Script?'

'I was told what to say.' _Those well-rehearsed lines._ 'What to do. Where to go. Even how to act — unhinged, bent on revenge — which would be logical behaviour, given… Everything. I was even forced to pretend to whip you, and could barely control the cursed tool. Then it started going south, as I knew it would, when someone showed up for you and I had to hold you hostage. It was all scripted.' His fingers curl, and loosen. 'At the end, I realised that I'd been written into a role that would sentence me to death. So that I couldn't talk.'

'Well, whoever told you to — they would have tried to — '

'Crimes of such a high order are punishable in this kingdom by law, and by death.' He looks at me. 'Your father had my execution ordered. Even if he hadn't, I would have taken myself to the guillotine for what I've done'

I swallow. _Executed? And he…_ I feel ill, the tension increasing notch by notch. 'T-Then why are you here now?'

He gives me something like a smile, a sad one. 'Someone opened the prison doors. It seems my work's not finished.' I tense, but he shakes his head. 'Don't worry. You weren't the target last time, nor this time either.'

'But I was _kidnapped_ — '

'But you weren't in danger.' He chooses his words. 'You're not… the objective, so to speak. Just a distraction. Yet I don't know what the real objective is.'

 _If that nightmare was a merely distraction… then how much worse would whatever… the real deal be?_

He gets up and crosses over to me. 'I've been instructed to hold you here until someone from the palace comes to claim you. That's all. And if anything changes, I'll do what I can to ensure your safety — '

'…Can you…' I whisper the words. 'Can you stay away from me?'

He stops. Takes a step back. 'As you wish.'

I lower my gaze. The ropes press against my arms.

I didn't really know what was going on, and there's still more that I don't know. And he seems… But I can't…

'You're right. You do play your part too well.'

The silence hangs heavy.

Then I break it. 'Can you… Untie me?'

His eyebrows lift, then he shakes his head. 'I would. But I can't guarantee your safety if you leave.'

 _It's not guns or knives that win the important fights, it's using vulnerability, your age — whatever you have to hand. And sometimes that's all you're going to have. So use it. And make it count._

I pause. My lips tremble. Tears prick my eyes, streak my jaw. 'Please let me go.' Herr Graaz sees my tears and flinches. 'Please. You could make it up to me if you did. And the ropes are tight — they hurt. I can't feel my hands.'

Herr Graaz comes over with a worried expression, yet cautiously, for my sake. 'I thought I tied them loosely. If you really wish it, but please don't leave the library. It's not safe. And that's speaking in comparison to… myself.'

He fingers the ropes, and starts unknotting the bonds.

The tears vanish. I smirk.

I scuff my toe over the floorboards, gaining freedom inch by inch.

Until I can stand. And run.

And if I can run, no one else is going to stand a chance.

 _To be continued…_


	50. Black Siege XII

**~ Licht ~**

I was here only just the other day. The decorations, the crowds, and the lights are gone, but I'm very much still crumpled half-unconscious on the floor of the Karlsbergs' mansion, spotlit by the moon that shines through the window.

I pull myself together, and try to get up, but… I can't. 'Ugh.' The gag over my mouth comes loose, and settles around my shoulders. I cough and try to spit out the taste of cotton. 'Ugh. For crying out loud.'

But why would I even be _here…_

 _…_ The man on my balcony. Taking me, smothering my yells, my breath. Dragging me away. I force myself onto my knees. Was I drugged? It would explain this headache. _Or was I poisoned again?_

What little progress I've made crumbles, as my legs give way beneath me. My breath stutters. 'D-Don't be ridiculous.' My voice in the huge stillness makes things feel worse. 'Why would anyone try to poison me again — '

Then again — why would someone bring me back here again?

It seems I can't discredit anything anymore.

Chandeliers float overhead. I must be in the entrance. Meaning… that's the front door? I scramble to my feet but trip and fly headlong; the marble scrapes my knees. I look back, at my useless legs. Weakened still further by whatever was done to me. How long have I been unconscious? I start to feel sick. It could have been hours, and they could have done anything —

I look at my hands. Did they do anything to me? I don't… really feel any different. My fingers tremble. I'd notice… if something hurt, wouldn't I?

If they had… if they… what would they have done to me?

I get to my knees. It doesn't matter now. I grit my teeth. All that matters is that I somehow get to my feet and get out those doors. Yet with each attempt, my legs buckle and drop me back to the floor again.

The latest failure sees me crack my head on the marble. Stars spin. When they clear, I see I've only made a few inches. I swear and slam a fist against the ground. Trying not to cry.

I look back at the staircase of the mansion.

 _And people may even come to help you, especially if they hear screams and think a child is getting hurt._

I could call for help. But would anyone hear me, even if it was just a servant? But still, that's all it would take, to get me out of this nightmare.

I gather my breath. Can I even call loud enough? I grin. I can still outshout Bruno in an argument. Just. This should be easy.

Then my breath snaps out of my lungs, under the gaze of a rifle's sights.

He stands at the stop of the staircase. A length of steel and trigger in his hands, trained on me. 'Stand down and keep quiet.'

Having said the bare minimum, he says nothing more. Do rifles have safety catches? If so, is the catch off? Would he actually shoot me?

I sit in a tangle of legs and shaking hands. _Why'd I have to do that? If I was going to be held at gunpoint, at least it would have been more endurable if I hadn't known._ Now I'm stuck here, waiting for a bullet in my head. Or leg. Or wherever.

It could be worse, I try to tell myself. But I can't believe that.

Then I realise how it could indeed be worse.

My legs are starting to throb. Panic, as well as pain, grips my stomach. I've recently been put on over a dozen different medications collectively, after I was poisoned. Pain medication. Stabilisers. Pills.

And I haven't had a dose of anything in hours.

The pain's getting worse. I'm feeling worse.

I laugh weakly. …I don't think this is going to end very well.

 _To be continued…_


	51. Black Siege XIII

**~ Bruno ~**

I wake, to realise that I've fallen asleep sitting up. I must have fallen asleep at my desk again, in the middle of a thesis. Then I realise I'm sitting on a boarded wooden floor.

Lights snap on; gantries gleam overhead — an intricate maze of wires, gas stage lights, and ropes and pulleys.

The glow burns my eyes and I wince.

But my mind is already racing. _Where am I? Is this… the university?_

I move, but it jars my arm. I raise my wrist.

This takes new meaning to the phrase, "Being chained to one's work."

I've been tied to a blackboard. Or rather chained. I mean, handcuffed.

If my mental coherency is this poor, I hate to think what my verbal coherency would be like.

My eyes have adjusted to the searing glow, as best they can. There's no mistaking it. I'm at the university, in the Karl Baedeker Room. But why?

Then I remember, my mind playing things out like parts on a stage. Hands around my neck; being escorted out of the palace. The chloroform. A rag dripping with the stuff pressed to my mouth, forcing me into unconsciousness. My head hurts with the effort to remember, and the only other thing I can remember recognising someone, someone familiar. And that's all.

They brought me… Here? Why?

My brain stutters. I can't work it out, and it's irritating me. With my intellect, too…

I toss my hand from side to side. The handcuffs clang like a crossing bell. I stagger to my feet. I'm only cuffed on one wrist, but still. I can't pick the locks or open them, either. If Master was here…

I shake my head. He's not. I'd like him to be, but he's not. I need to take care of myself.

 _Running is nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it as a race that you have to win because your life depends on it._

I step, and dig my heels in. I grimace. I can't believe I'm going to have to get out of here while dragging an entire blackboard with me, but so be it.

Yet it scrapes over the floor with an ugly shriek. The chalk flies and scatters over the floor.

Someone's broken the wheels off.

I'm already panting, and I've barely moved it. I stop and catch my breath. Short of carrying it — and it's three times my width — there's no way I can get out of here. And it's heavy, too.

I look up at the exit, impossibly far away. It's even open. But my heart sinks. It's up countless flights of stairs, right at the top of the hall. There's no way… I can't even lift this thing to take my leave by a stage exit.

I'm well and truly stuck.

The cuffs clink out the lightest, unsteady rhythm. At least there's no one in here with me. Is there?

I finally notice. Up in the far corner.

I even recognise him from last time. From behind that telescope. The one he nearly knocked me in the head with as we passed in the university's halls.

The gun is in plain view this time, however. There's no one that he needs to hide from.

My breath ratchets. He notes my recognition, but says nor does nothing.

It takes a moment before I realise that despite the gun being in view, he's not poised to fire it. It rests on the railing, still capable of putting a bullet between my eyes, but the sights aren't up to his face.

I back up and press against the blackboard. Then dread pools in my stomach, it knots my nerves into a cat's cradle mess. If he fires, at all, even if it doesn't hit me…

 _—_ _It could have offed him right there._

If a bullet hits the blackboard, I'll be run through with shrapnel.

…Suffice it to say, I'm mildly terrified now.

 _To be continued…_


	52. Black Siege XIV

**~ Kai ~**

I wake on cobblestones. Am I… at military academy? I usually don't fall asleep on stone, but I've done it before. Although, grass is better. More comfortable, more soft.

I realise how cold it is. Bitterly so.

I open my eyes to stars overhead. I'm crumpled on the Ringstrasse.

I sit up so fast that it nearly carries me onto my knees. Did I… hit my head? I touch a hand to my temple. Did I pass out?

The clock strikes the half hour. Eleven-thirty. I'm in the middle of the road, which is deserted at this time of night.

This feels very, very wrong.

Then I remember. They took me from the palace; they took my brothers and I through hell and they split us up, they _abducted us_. I even remember fragments of the trip, between lapses of consciousness, then it blacks out.

I get to my knees. I'm not tied up or anything.

Then I see the gatling gun.

They took down the one that Professor Heine found. The military confiscated it, dismantled it. So either they got it back… or they have more than one.

Because it's angled at me, lined up from a rooftop far above my head.

 _You should have the sense to know when you should act._

So I stay put. Kneeling in the road. Because I think I'm in more danger of being shot than being run over by a carriage at this point in time.

 _To be continued…_


	53. Black Siege XV

**~ Heine ~**

We thunder out of the palace gates, the three of us: Eins and I on his stallion; Ernst on a horse we borrowed from the palace stables, with almost more weapons between the three of us than we know what to do with.

No cavalry this time. Soldiers are still flooding the city, but there's no way they can keep up with us. We didn't have a cavalry the first time — and 'come alone,' wasn't stated, but still implied.

We're all the princes have.

With the bomb threat behind us, I can finally concentrate on the task at hand — and take on the pressure that nearly brings me under. All four of them —

'So,' Eins asks. 'Where to?'

And I realise that I have the reins for this one. I may have the crown prince and one of the kingdom's best marksmen, allegedly, on my team — but this is still very much my problem. I try to order my thoughts. Then I realise they're already ordered — _because I wrote all those reports for Viktor._ There's nothing like setting things down on paper to establish a chronology.

So I already know that we're not meant to be going to Raischt. 'The national library. That's where Leonhard was abducted before he was taken to Raischt. That's where I went to go after him.'

Eins pulls a hard left; we canter down the main street, heading for the Ringstrasse. Then we hear hell break out behind us and Eins reins our horse in so fast it bucks and nearly throws me off.

Ernst whistles.

It seems the mercenaries got tired of ransacking Schwarz Palace. They've caught up to us and they're coming down the road at a clip.

Eins says something less than pleasant. 'I'm firing all our guards when we finish with this d_ed mess.'

I turn back around and tug at his wrist. 'We can outrun them easily. Go.'

'Then they'll catch up to us when we get to the library.' Eins weighs up our options, under the swelling roar.

He looks at Ernst. And Ernst nods. Before springing off his horse and dropping to one knee in the street, rifle in hand.

My eyes widen. 'Wait — '

He smirks and flicks the safety off. 'Better hurry, little tutor.'

And Eins tears us away — leaving Ernst to rain bullets down the street.

We clatter along the Ringstrasse as gunfire cuts the silence.'You needn't worry about him,' Eins says. Yet I can feel the rigid tension in his frame.

'Why don't you tell me not to fret about the fate of the kingdom while you're at it?'

A hard stop, and we rein in at the national library's steps. I jump off, and I barely stick the landing. Trapped on a chessboard. And I can barely move the pieces, let alone upturn the board and play by my own rules.

I take the steps two at a time — sharp moonlight carves out the staircase to the entrance, and already my breath's coming hard. At least I have Eins. Between the two of us, we can —

The doors burst open — he streaks out, faster than lighting, over the steps and barely touching the ground. ' _Prince!_ ' someone yells above.

My eyes widen. Then again, who else could be so fast? 'Prince Leonhard!'

His foot touches stone. His eyes catch mine, they widen — the barest of missteps and he's tripping headlong and I barely break his fall, somehow staying upright right on the very edge of a fatal fall down the steps. I get my breath, holding him in a messy tangle of arms and misplaced legs.

'Heine?' Sweat, chafed skin, short of breath, and alive. And just as temperamental as ever. 'I could have run you over, you — ugh!' Yet he takes me in an awkward, heavy embrace. Slender and angled limbs, arms around my neck. His breath touches my skin, shy, uncertain. '…Where have you been?'

I make a disagreeable noise. 'Yes, excuse me for showing up to save your life. How self-sufficient of you to free yourself.' He protests. I brush my fingers over his back, and lean into him. 'Well done.'

Something catches my attention. I lift my hand, and slip it to my waist.

And train my gun forward over Leonhard's shoulder. At Herr Graaz.

Who was supposed to have met his end at the hands of a firing squad.

 _The one that was on death row on day one…_

Was — past tense — the execution never happened —

And my finger shakes on the trigger.

Chinks of light scatter through Leonhard's blue eyes, fixed on my gun. 'H-Heine?'

'Stay still, if you would, Prince.' Herr Graaz remains motionless. Framed in the library's doors.

I wonder what it would take for me to pull the trigger.

Leonhard tenses, then grips my arm. Forcing my gun hand. 'Heine, wait.'

Some instinct in me resists, resisting the threat of someone trying to disarm me. 'Let go, Prince.' Eins stops at my side. I flick my eyes from him to Leonhard. I don't have time for this, and Eins may have to pull him off me. 'He's an enemy of the crown. He — '

'— was meant to have been executed.' Leonhard's grip doesn't slack. 'I know. And he's not… I talked to him.' He thinks I'm really going to shoot — 'It's someone else. I can't… We've got bigger problems. _Heine, don't!_ '

 _Don't, Heine!_

I gasp — flung back to an alleyway awash with blood — before snapping back to the present. I take my finger off the trigger. I nod at Eins, and he heads up the stairs. To clean up the mess for us. Or make a mess. Whichever takes his fancy.

'I'm surprised,' I say. 'He hurt you. Wouldn't you want me to at least make him… pay?' I let the offer hang. Leonhard fingers the burned plait woven into his hair.

'I-I still hate him, Heine. Even after he told me… And I was scared.' His voice breaks on the last word. He draws breath and argues, with passion, despite everything. 'But you shouldn't, I mean… don't!'

I touch the half-healed nick on his cheek. I catch his eyes.

Then it's back to business. Eins has Herr Graaz under control, but we don't have time to verify whether he's still a threat to us, so I have to keep moving. Next. I reach to vault onto the horse, but I can't with one arm. Dizzy vertigo, and Leonhard lifts me up and on. Yet I'm starting to break again. Not my heart, but my body.

I'm shutting down.

Leonhard touches my bandaged arm, startling me, and asks, 'What happened?' He steadies me, hands on my waist. Blue eyes wide and worried. 'Are you okay?'

'I'll live.' _Because I have to._ I gather the reins in one hand, and feel the ground far below with every step of the horse. 'As you said: we have bigger problems.'

Eins forces Herr Graaz between us and holds me back for a second. 'I need to get this one to custody and take Leonhard to a safe location. Do you want me to go on ahead to Bruno or come and meet you and Licht?'

I pivot the horse, fighting hard to keep my balance. 'Meet me. Karlsburgs' mansion. We need to — '

'Bruno?' Leonhard stands with one gloved hand to his neck, caught off guard. 'Licht? W-What happened?'

'You weren't the only one.' Gunfire cracks and whittles a skeletal tune in the distance. My gut cinches. 'Listen — go with Eins.' I crack the reins and leave, giving the prince every order I can think of as I go. 'Stay with the people he takes you to, don't trust anyone, and _don't_ go back to the palace — it's not safe.'

I try to smile. It's never felt so unnatural. 'I'll see you when this is over.'

The cobblestones rattle like firecrackers and the night plays a crackling tune, my horse's hoofbeats beating out the percussion.

And Leonhard's panicked blue eyes still draw pain from beneath my skin. I exhale and force it away. I can't risk dwelling on _de ja vu_ and falling prey to distraction. I split from the Ringstrasse to a main street, chasing it until it terminates in the Karlsburgs' over-long driveway.

Gates. And guards. Ones that I startle into life with my dramatic appearance; I have to halt or risk knocking them down. 'National emergency!' I yell. 'Business of the king, let me _through_!'

A few more snapped orders and I've broken through and gained passage. If you don't belong, pretend as though you do; it works every time. I canter up the driveway, to a completely different labyrinth than the first time I came here.

Already I'm swapping back to what I can recall from last time. Poisoning attempt. The house lies dead, a solid block in the sky. Would Licht have been poisoned again? Or only abducted?

I swing from my mount to the ground, wishing yet again that I had use of my other arm. I lash the reins to some metalwork and ascend the steps.

The doors are open. I guess I'm about to be ambushed. I heft my revolver in my hand and go in. It's not as though I can put the matter off.

The dark gradually comes into focus, and my shadow breaks up the moonlight, breaks up the tiled pattern —

And it fragments Licht's doll-like body, crumpled on the floor. Blonde hair pooled beneath him like spilt champagne.

I freeze. His eyes flicker, and he looks up. His pupils are pinpricks in shaky irises. Drugged.

'Heine…?' His eyes widen. 'Heine, move!'

The bullet grazes my neck and chips marble. I barely moved in time.

I'm already in the shadows, frenetic, blending with the darkness. He stands at the top of the stairs and tracks me with his rifle. The same man that broke into the palace and attacked Estiella. I draw — I'm not going to get many chances — I fire, and the bullet blurs in the sights and doesn't land anywhere close. It ricochets, clattering.

The fact that I missed seems to surprise him, and he laughs, before taking aim.

Anyone can fire a gun. But a basic grasp of trigonometry and higher math can produce better results. The bullet skews the fixtures that hold a suit of armour, and it tips and grinds the shooter into the floor.

I drop to the ground at Licht's side. I catch my breath. I think I'm going to develop an addiction to adrenaline whether I wish to or not. Lights flame into being around the mansion and servants spill into the hall, shrieking at the sight of the man crushed beneath the suit of armour. I could care less. About all of it.

Then I'm tackled. I nearly crack the assailant over the head with my revolver only to realise a beat later that it's merely Licht. I awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, the gun still in my hand. He's far too affectionate for his own good. As always.

'Are you all right?' I ask. I brush his snarled hair over his shoulder, out of the way. 'You're not hurt?'

'Eh heh.' He gives an embarrassed smile. He touches his shoulder, then touches his head. A thin ribbon of red paints his temple. 'Nothing I didn't do to myself. My legs kind of… aren't back to their usual, yet. Great timing, huh?'

Despite having him here, and safe, dread still fingers my spine. That means — he was trapped here? The doors were open and he couldn't even walk to get out? Then again if he was drugged, it could have made his already impaired state worse.

 _They drugged him._ White hot rage burns in my chest, giving me the drive I need to keep going a little longer.

Then I'm distracted, by his fingers clutching my sleeve. 'Heine? I… what happens if… you come off, I don't know, a dozen medicines at once?' His voice trembles a little. 'You know what I mean?'

I blink. _Oh. That's right, he was medicated when he was poisoned._ I adjust my glasses. 'Well, you'll suffer withdrawals, but if you took medication this evening, then you shouldn't — '

Then I realise that he looks ill. Very ill. A servant tries to approach us, but I ward them off with a hand. 'I didn't…' Licht says. 'I had some girls over.' He tries to laugh, but it comes out weaker, something different. 'I couldn't stop and dose in front of everyone, could I?'

Then he was already worsening, even before this. Then trapped here for hours. My breath leaves my lungs in a ragged cloud of frost. I press fingers to Licht's forehead. His skin burns with fever to the touch. Same as mine. Partners in suffering, it seems.

I try to talk, but it keeps coming out too sharp. I finally bring my voice down to a reasonable tone. 'I asked you if you were all right just seconds ago.'

He drops his hands to his lap and blinks back tears. 'Sorry. I thought you meant… not dying.'

'Yes, but… _still_.' I touch his cheek. 'You can be honest.'

He brushes his hair out of his eyes. His fingers shake with the ticking of a metronome. 'I was trying… not to think about it… I couldn't take it… And…' As though painted with a whitewash, his skin loses its colour. 'Sorry about this.' And it's all I can do to catch him before he takes another spill.

His breathing slows, pulling in whispers of air. We're drawing more attention. And thank goodness, Eins chooses this moment to show up. He's already doling out diplomacy left and right, leaving Licht and I to cope with our immediate problems. I help the prince to his feet. But it's all he can manage — if I try to move him, he might tip over.

Eins manages to sate Count Karlsburg's questions, and turns back to me. 'Can't you at least try to keep the collateral damage to a minimum? Apparently that suit of armour was a family heirloom. And I've already had to apologise on a separate occasion for the mess you two made at the gala.'

'Just keep him from complaining to me about it, or I'll tell him where he can shove it.' I have a feeling that Count Karlsburg overheard my tone, yet is too distracted by trying to organise the havoc I wreaked in his house to make out the words. 'We've got our own collateral damage to worry about.'

Eins takes note of Licht, half unconscious and propped against me. He takes Licht off my hands and into his arms. 'I take it he was medicated. From being poisoned?'

'Correct. He said something to the effect of that he was on at least a dozen different medications. And he was also drugged. He's suffering.'

Eins blinks, then looks at Licht's face, and checks his pulse. '…I think you're wrong.' He presses his thumb closer to Licht's pulse, set in his collarbone.

Licht's eyes flicker open. 'Nnh… Eins?'

'Shh. You're safe,' Eins murmurs. He looks up at me and says, 'If what you say is true… then the withdrawal symptoms would be drastically worse, especially if compounded by drugs. He wasn't drugged. Whatever those people dosed him with… they were _medicating_ him.'

I'm completely stunned. 'To… control the withdrawal symptoms…'

'They're taking effect even now. He's already stabilising, albeit still very ill.'

'Guys,' Licht says. He winces, and gives me a weak smile. 'Can you stop talking about me in the third person?'

'Quiet, brat,' Eins says. 'Save the bravado when you're not about to have a heart collapse.'

Another instance in a thousand where the princes were protected rather than harmed. And what scares me is that there are another thousand instances where they still got hurt. We can't guess these people's motives with behaviour like that. But we don't have time to think — only time to shoot and run.

We need to leave, yet the Karlsburgs are nowhere near placated. 'We need to take him somewhere,' I say. 'He's in no condition to accompany us.'

Eins grimaces. 'There aren't any military outposts or police stations nearby.' Licht closes his eyes. He's fully in the grip of a painful fever. Eins's eyes flicker, and he comes to a decision and hefts us up onto the horse.

The clock strikes the quarter hour. We're falling behind. I rack my brains and scan Wienner, below us, one hand to my eyes. I lower my hand. 'I know where I can take him.'

'I'll meet you at the university.' Eins slaps our horse and we're plunged down the driveway, leaving the mansion behind us. We cover the brief stretch to the end of the street and clatter to a halt.

Licht opens his eyes. He sags. 'You've got to be kidding.'

I dismount and head for the establishment's door. 'Let me know if you have any better ideas, because I'm about to knock.'

And I rap on the door of Cafe Mitter Meyer.

' _Heine!_ ' But Licht can't stay conscious long enough to contest the point.

'Sorry, Highness.' I know that this is going to cause massive problems with his job at the cafe. Yet we don't have any other options. I'll make it up to him however I can — provided we all live long enough.

I knock again, then rap out an irritating staccato beat. We literally don't have all night. Despite having already freed two princes, I still feel sick with nerves. Balancing between a ticking clock and an intricate game. Anything could happen yet. And we could run out of time. Footsteps thump down the stairs — it seems I've managed to drive Herr Felix from his residence above the shop.

The door slams open. 'Look, it's clearly past opening hours, so…' Herr Felix stops. He's looking a little more dishevelled than his usual appearance as the cafe's master. His suspenders are only hooked on one side, over a crumpled shirt. 'What…?'

'Herr Felix. We need a favour.' He recognises me immediately — Licht's supposed 'little brother' — yet he's still staring in confusion at Licht. Licht regains consciousness for a moment, long enough for him to fully realise what I've done. His eyes widen, panicked. I rest a hand on his shoulder.

Herr Felix's brow creases. No doubt seeing traces of the young man who works at his cafe in Licht's appearance. 'Do I know you?'

Never quick on the uptake, that one. 'We need your help. Can you take Rich? Just for a little while?'

His eyes widen. 'Rich… Is that you?!' He's already helping Licht down, supporting him with an arm to lean on. 'You said you were sick when you asked for leave, but you look half-dead! What happened?'

Licht tries to smile, yet can't quite manage it. 'It's a long story, I guess.'

Herr Felix takes in the cut on Licht's temple. His scuffed clothes. His military uniform — the uniform of the country's military and of the royal family. Taking in me, looking less like Licht's younger brother and more like a loose unit with a firearms obsession. Despite knowing that Licht is supposedly a member of nobility, these hints are rather obvious.

I can see this questions in his eyes. Only half-formed, likely only guesses at what's really happening, yet he doesn't ask them. He merely picks Licht up, despite his protests. 'Oof. There we go. Come now, you can barely walk. And you're far too thin — what have you been doing to yourself?'

'It's not so much me… it's more… other people.'

I quickly insert myself in the conversation. 'Correct. I would like to stay and explain, but I have urgent business to attend to. Don't let anyone else inside the cafe. And Rich may need a doctor. I'll pay for any expenses at the nearest opportunity.'

'A-As you wish. I was planning on getting someone to come and check him over anyway,' Herr Felix says. He's overwhelmed, but receptive at least. And he's already heading inside, kicking the door shut and taking Licht up the stairs to his own room, which is exactly what I want.

'Good grief. I know you're a nobleman's son, but I don't want one of my best staff members getting laid up because of courtly intrigue…' His words fade away, and I run.

Down the streets, around corners, sprinting and gasping for breath, running through time as snatches of years gone past come flooding back, running to Dr. Dmitri's residence. I bang on the door, as hard as I can with one hand.

The door slams open and Smerdyakov's locked and loaded reprimand dies on his lips. He sees all of it. Every injury. Every ounce of desperation. Dr. Dmitri appears from the shadows, startled out of his bed, most likely.

'Please.' I pant for breath. 'It's Bruno. Please.'

A glance over his shoulder at Dr. Dmitri — who nods — and Smerdyakov's gaze hardens, and he steps down from the threshold without another word. He slams the door shut. 'I think you need to take on an assistant, little tutor.'

'What, are you looking for new employment?'

I point, to the university. Smerdyakov's eyebrows lift, and we run.

Only to narrowly miss getting trampled by Eins, who comes in from a side street on a horse that he no doubt commandeered from the Karlsburgs' stables. 'Where's Licht?' I point in the general direction of the cafe, recalling that due to Ernst's interference with Licht's work at the cafe, it's likely that Eins knows about Licht's moonlighting at the cafe. And sure enough, Eins grimaces. No doubt envisioning Licht's protests the way that I did. 'You realise that Licht will be… aggrieved about that?'

He lifts me onto his horse. All this up and down is wearing thin. 'I'm aware. But Herr Felix is the one person I feel we can trust Licht with. He's not manipulative enough to have anything other than Licht's best interests at heart.'

Eins and Smerdyakov exchange glances, each likely eyeing the other's weapons. 'In other words, his wheelhouse isn't capable of realising that we've just given a prince into his possession,' Eins says.

'Do you really have to — '

A window fractures, and powdered glass explodes over us.

' _Ernst!_ ' Eins yells.

How does he know — and sure enough, Ernst vaults into view and whips off a shot down the street while still in the air — even finding time to shoot Eins a filthy look while still in orbit. 'It was one of them! Do you even — '

'I mean you need to take them out before we start endangering civilian areas — '

Ernst drops behind a gas lamp. 'I'm trying, for goodness' sake!' A spent clip clatters on the ground and he rams another one in. 'They're scattering each time I shoot and now the blighters are spread through the streets — ' he dives for cover, bullets snagging at his hair — and he takes the next couple of shots from the ground before flipping back to his feet. 'And it's not as though the military's any ruddy use — '

A stocky figure barrels out of an alleyway with knives drawn, but Ernst just sidesteps him and takes him down with a blow from the stock of his rifle, not even mussing his hair, ' — half of them are down at the port, and the rest are scattered all over the kingdom from everything that happened earlier this evening.'

We watch his antics as though we're theatregoers. 'Why does this feel like a macabre comedy skit?' Smerdyakov says.

'Shut up and get going!' Ernst snaps. 'Before you get stuck in this bullet hell — move it!'

The university. We make a break for it, passing Ernst, and Eins tosses him the spare rifle that he had strapped to his back. Ernst catches it without looking. 'Good luck.'

Movement, far away. Ernst takes aim. He glances back, over his shoulder. His ruby eyes glow with a strange fire. He almost doesn't look human. His teeth show in an aggressive smirk. 'I have to say, this is almost a challenge. Normally I don't have the luxury of _moving targets_.'

I grin back, despite the hell breaking out around us. _I hate him, but this is why I'd be a fool not to have him on my side._

The next shot marks the university appearing in our sights. We whisk the horse up the steps and tie it to the railing, before storming in. The halls are even darker than the moonlit night outside, passing by in rapid slats of doors and windows. I have to get my bearings, have to work out where Bruno would be. The Karl Baedeker Room. Where he was nearly shot. Where he could die tonight.

I bear hard left and pull up by the doorframe. The doors are open.

We step onto the room's landing. Rows of silent seats. Spotlights light the scene.

Cuffs chain Bruno's arm above his head, to a blackboard. Trapped on the stage.

I reach for Smerdyakov's hand, and dig my nails into his palm. He looks, and picks out the same thing I have. The gunman sitting five rows down, with a rifle. An M87. No telescope this time.

He hasn't heard us. Yet. I think. Or he could merely be wanting to ensure his life by keeping the sights trained on the prince.

I point. The stage exit. The gunman. Myself. Eins nods, and Smerdyakov and I get out of the room as fast as we can, running down the hall, down a staircase, into a room, through the doors, into the wings mere feet from Bruno.

I can't see the gunman from here. Only Bruno. Shackled, and unaware I'm here.

So I scuff my foot over the floor. A loud, scratching noise. Bruno's head jerks up and he sees me. He blinks. Logic can't really explain how I materialised like a phantom, and I'm almost tempted to tell him to stop rationalising out of habit.

His eyes snap to the seats, and he stumbles to his feet, chains clanking. 'Wait, Heine, don't come any— '

I step onto the stage. The spotlights cast me in full view. The sights landing on me, for one instant. Smerdyakov lunges from the side, shields Bruno, a shot — a sharp needle in my leg — and I vault into the darkness.

My eyes focus, cat-like in the shadows. Eins has his sword at the man's neck, his gun-arm stressed to the snapping point.

Perfect. I stride over to Bruno, already setting to work on his cuffs with hairpins and wires. 'Are you all right? Prince?'

Bruno manages to resume normal function of his visceral nervous system, and stammers, 'M-Master?' He panics. 'B-But, what — were you shot? Master!'

I pause — even though every precious second counts — and take his hand. 'Perhaps. It only clipped me, I think.' Despite myself, I smirk. Excess adrenaline and lack of oxygen can cause… humorous reactions to things that usually shouldn't be funny. 'If I'm not visibly gushing blood all over the floor, then I can worry about it later. What matters is that you're safe.' I squeeze his hand, and with a final twist of wire, I snap the cuffs off his other hand.

'Thank you,' Bruno whispers. 'Truly. For saving me. Words aren't enough. Thank you.' He manages a weak chuckle. 'Short of carrying the blackboard, I couldn't have gotten free myself and heaven knows I don't have Kai's stamina.'

We jump off the stage and climb the stairs. Our final curtain call. No more encores.

Eins has our latest assailant at sword point when we reach the top of the stairs. The blade bars his throat. In peacetime, it's rare to actually see bare, unsheathed metal, no matter the reason.

Bruno flinches. Either at seeing his would-be assassin or his brother. His brother, judging by Eins's low laugh. 'Come now — the enemy of your enemy is your friend. And come to think of it, you should be thanking me, little brother.'

In the middle of a national crisis and they can still find ways to set each other on edge. Bruno nods, holding Eins's gaze. 'Thank you. You're in my debt.'

'Hmph.' Eins forces our man through the halls and out the university doors. We follow close behind. Out on the steps, Eins says, 'As Leonhard nearly took himself out by falling down a flight of stairs and Licht was half-dead when we found him, you seem to have fared the best so far. Whether that's due to your own merit or mere chance, remains to be seen'

It takes Bruno a moment to register what he's saying. 'Leonhard. Licht?' He staggers, and steadies himself. 'Y-You… No. Please…'

I adjust my glasses. 'They're fine. Yet we still have to get to Prince Kai.'

My heart skips a beat. Just one more. One more, then this will be over. I can feel my legs trembling, chills and fever and every kind of agony just waiting to set in, but not yet. Not yet. Just a little —

More.

I look across the Ringstrasse. Only yards away, the final scene waits to be acted out.

'Let's go.' I draw my revolver. 'Bruno, come with us. We haven't got time to take you to shelter.'

Eins glances down at the dead-weight we picked up. 'And this one?'

'Waste him.'

Eins cracks him over the head with the sword's hilt and drops him. We won't be seeing him for a while. Bruno, impressively, doesn't even flinch.

The three of us cross the Ringstrasse and cut through it. We're almost running, driven by the promise that's we're almost there. That this is almost over. Ernst darts out of an alleyway, and joins us, reloading his guns even as he walks.

'Is there anything I should know about this one?' Eins asks. His voice sounds even lower. Strained by smoke and tension, no doubt.

'Well — '

I stop dead. Two things register. The fact that Kai is kneeling in the middle of the road.

And… the fact that all the abductions have faithfully recreated the original attacks.

Meaning that we all may be about to be gunned down on the street.

'There was a gatling gun.'

Kai's eyes flicker. Upwards. _It's behind us._

'Move — '

Our group splinters and the bullets fly. A few shots graze me. Kai and I crash behind the fountain, and bullets and water pour over us in a hail. Kai's laboured breathing chafes against my neck. Ernst is already looking for an angle to shoot, across the impossible distance above our heads. Eins and Bruno blur under a rainstorm of bullets, taking shelter in an alleyway. I want to give in. To hide. But no one else is going to fix this mess.

No. That's not it.

No one else _can_.

'Stay here.' I shake Kai's shoulder. 'Stay here and don't move.'

And I run; streak over the distance and fly. I pass Bruno, pass Eins and race up the alley walls, a ricocheting bullet, and I rip my arm out of its sling as I go. My leg throbs with the pain of the bullets that clipped it, and I nearly fall. I flip over the edge and onto the roof.

I stalk the span between the gatling gun and myself and punch the weapon's operator so hard that it breaks even more of his teeth and sends him to the ground. I rip the crank off the gun, bruising my fingers and palms. I throw it aside. I rub my stinging knuckles. What can I say? I was getting tired of pulling triggers.

Next… Next?

I blink. I look again. At the carnage I wreaked in mere seconds. Next… There is no next. I've run out of… Objectives? I've run out of people to beat up? It feels strange. I don't know what to do with myself… My toes touch the tip of the roof. It bends, spins, and only when the sky spins into a vortex do I realise I'm falling.

It's not going to hurt anymore than anything else I've done this week. No, my pain threshold has been well and truly passed. Even dying sounds pleasant compared to…

But I don't want to die.

I reach —

The impact nearly cracks my spine, and the force snaps through my limbs. My vision blacks.

'Teacher!'

' _Master!_ '

'Herr Wittgenstein!'

'Little tutor!'

It takes me a while to realise that someone caught me. Kai. I can hear his breathing, feel his body shaking. I clear my throat. My mouth tastes like grit and gunpowder. 'Don't… call me… little. '

And that's as much as I can manage. I can hear relief, laughter, tears — definitely Prince Bruno — and a sigh. I'm nowhere near all right, however. But it's over now. I take a ragged breath. Over. Done.

'Are you all right?' It feels strange to be asked it, instead of asking someone else. 'Teacher?'

I don't really know how to respond. I take another breath. 'I'm… tired.' It's like opening a floodgate. I finally give in. 'Really tired.' All the pain, all the stress, I allow it all. Maybe I'd even cry, if I had the strength to do so. '…I'm sorry. I can't — '

'You're sorry?' I open my eyes a crack. Eins looks irritated, as usual. 'You've done a better job than our entire military and you're sorry? Good grief — what you've done it medal-worthy.'

Medal-worthy? I almost laugh. That can't be right. Viktor's the one who wears medals and honours, not me. 'But I'm not — I was just… doing my job.'

Ernst sighs and slings his rifle over his shoulder. 'For goodness sake. If single-handedly saving the kingdom is what gets a compliment out of our stingy prince — then the rest of us can go and just jump off a cliff, can't we?'

It breaks the ice — getting a laugh from Bruno and Kai, a glare from Eins. I smile, just a little. Yet even merely a breath reminds me of how far I've been pushed. I couldn't do a single thing more if I tried.

I couldn't do a single thing more if I tried.

The phrase sounds stranger and stranger, each time my mind plays it back to me. Like putting the needle back on the vinyl until you've memorised the record.

I couldn't do a single thing, even if I tried. I couldn't handle one more assassination attempt. I couldn't cope with one more day of this. Even one more hour. I physically have nothing left. I've spent all my bullets. I've run out of strength. I couldn't do a single thing more if I tried.

I couldn't do any more. I've reached the end, and my momentum is gone. There's no way I would be able to bring myself to function again.

I couldn't do a single thing even if something happened. If someone took action now, I wouldn't be able to do anything. I've been broken down so thoroughly it's as though someone dismantled me. And I couldn't —

The realisation runs me through, a shaft of agonising fear and pain. Just as raw as if I'd been stabbed.

The clock strikes midnight. Tolls the hours.

Counting down to when Viktor will board the ship.

 _End of Act 5: Black Siege_

 _To be continued in Act 6: Midnigh_ _t Coup D'état…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, I certainly don't need to pad out this chapter with any author's note filler. Nonetheless I've got to say that one of the main things I had fun with in this story was the bodyguard side of it. Not merely making Heine this pint-sized little living weapon, but giving Rosenberg and Smerdyakov a bit of the spotlight as well. Needless to say, I could definitely see myself writing some more about those two in their roles as personal guards...

Reviews, feedback, and criticism are most welcome, and the story continues in the next act...


	54. Midnight Coup D'état I

**~ Heine ~**

It was never about the princes, was it?

'Put me down.'

'Teacher — '

'Put me _down_.'

Kai flinches and sets me down on the cobblestones.

My heart is beating too hard. I close my eyes. Now would be a fitting time for a heart attack, I suppose.

'It… wasn't the princes. It was all staged. Scripted. They weren't targeted for blackmail, ransom, or assassination. They were targeted for… nothing. Technically, they were never in danger.'

Even the assassins that came after us were always a beat late on the trigger. Always a second's delay. Just in case I wasn't fast enough. It was never luck that saved us. Nor chance.

And we played the game, until we won and I collapsed on the finish line. Done. A spent cartridge.

I wonder who it was — who it was that broke me with such mathematical precision.

 _Did my father accidentally break his favourite toy?_ No. It wasn't Viktor. It never was.

It was them.

'Viktor.'

They ran me down like a wind-up toy and pulled out the key.

'They removed me from the equation so they could get to Viktor.'

The pain claws and grips my chest. A low whimper. That's all the noise I can make. I can't even cry.

Time passes.

If the others try to talk to me, I can't hear their voices. Viktor. Viktor. Viktor.

Viktor.

…I wanted to talk to him when he got back. To make up with him, to see him again, to have some semblance of normal — to argue about his sons' exam results, if nothing else.

And now he's on a ship, heading faraway from Glanzreich. They could even have control over the ship itself. They could hold him to ransom. Or just kill him out at sea.

And it's my fault. The grief hurts, heavy and soft. I loved him too much. I even wondered if it would happen. _God, if this is a sin — then forgive me for being happy._ I even wondered if it happened when Viktor sent me away and left me. But it did happen. When Viktor went to catch that ship. I loved him too much and God took him from me.

I was selfish and it… killed him.

'Heine!' Someone shakes me, spilling over with smiles and fear and pain all carbonated together and fizzing in an uncorked mess. 'Heine! Come on, talk to me! Wake up! You're all right, aren't you? Heine?'

Whether I want to come or not, he drags me from my daze. It takes a moment for me to come back to the present. 'Prince… Leonhard?'

He's breathless, blonde hair snarled and messy, on his knees on the stone. 'Yeah, who else?'

I blink. 'What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay… somewhere.'

'Yeah, you went on and on and on, but after I thought about it, I realised you didn't tell me that I couldn't follow you! So I wasn't just going to wait around, was I? The military was spreading out through the city to follow you, so I got some soldiers to take me along. But we only just caught up to you.' He grins. 'So, you did it! You saved all of us.' He blushes, then hugs me hard. 'Again. You won for us all.' The pads of his fingers feel like velvet on my skin. 'Thank you.'

'I didn't. Get off.'

Leonhard doesn't move. '…What?'

'I didn't win. Get off me.'

He slowly takes his arms from my neck. His lips quiver. I hurt him. 'Heine, I — '

'I didn't save anyone.' I finger my sleeve. The words come out before I know what I'm saying. 'I didn't save anyone. I just made a massive mess. And now… I can't… They — They were after him all along, and I was so stupid — ' Leonhard tries to say something — after all, I'm telling that I lost his _father_ — but I talk over top of him. ' — the last thing we did was fight, and this is all my fault, and…'

'What do you mean… your fault?' Bruno says, looking at me with bewilderment. 'You taught us not to think that everything is our fault, didn't you?'

 _I did?_ I look at the paving stones. 'But it … I was selfish, and… if I hadn't been so selfish about him, God wouldn't have taken him from…'

'What are you talking about?' Leonhard crosses his arms. 'Since when was it about you?'

That earns a collective wince and a few gasps from everyone present. I'm too stunned to answer.

Leonhard fingers his hair. 'I mean… He's my _dad_ , and all of us care about him, but — I don't know why you're bringing God into this but my father has all of us and even the whole kingdom depending on him. He can't just go and die at the drop of a hat because you think you did something wrong. So saying that God's going to take him away just because of something you did or whatever doesn't make any sense.'

Crickets chirp in the background.

Leonhard grabs my shoulders. 'So — so what? if something's happened to him, just do something about it! That's what you're good at, right?!'

 _Do something?_ I blink back the tears that are threatening to spill. I… I am being selfish. I just assumed that it was my fault. My responsibility. As always.

 _I'm sorry._ I have no right to pray for help, but at least my prayers don't hinge on my own merits. Thank God for that. _Please. If you want me to try, I will._

Leonhard gestures. 'And besides, none of us are even old enough to take the throne yet. There's no way he's just going to up and — '

Eins looks irritated, in the way that only Leonhard can make him look. 'I take it I'm not included in that tally?'

Leonhard tilts his head and glares at him. 'If Dad thought you were a good candidate for the throne then he wouldn't have gone out of his way to have so many kids. Haven't you heard of contingency plans? Besides, I'd put Adele on the throne before letting you have it.'

Everyone either chokes or coughs or hides their face with a hand.

I can't help it. I'm startled into laughing, more than anything else.

Eins scoffs. 'I don't think you would have any choice in the matter. And you're relegating you and your brothers to being _contingency plans_ , now?'

'I'm insulting _you_ , not the other way around! Accept it!'

Ernst's shoulders shake, and he finally manages to suppress his laughter. 'For goodness' sake. Why is it that humans always resort to risqué humour in situations like this?'

'You're just as much involved in this as the rest of us.' I say. 'Technically and morally.'

Leonhard's face blanks. 'What do you mean, "humour?"'

Ernst laughs, and swipes Leonhard under the chin. 'Innocent as a lamb, this one. He'd last five minutes as king, to be sure.'

I give him a look. 'Do we want to have a group discussion about the multiplicative abilities of rabbits while we're at it?'

'What do rabbits have to do with this?' Leonhard protests.

To do with the potential abduction of the king of the realm? Absolutely nothing.

And we all get ourselves back on the rails.

And I'm back to being a mess.

I don't think I can do this. The knowledge sits heavy in my chest — if only I hadn't dropped my guard, thinking it was over. I was moving on sheer adrenaline alone, and now that I've hit what I thought was the climax and stopped, I'm physically unable to continue. Now I'm completely wrecked.

They wanted to break me? They broke me so badly that if I was a toy I'd have gears and cogs spilling from my insides.

So I say so. 'I… don't think I can do this.' It stings, but I don't want them to get their hopes up for something that I can't give them. 'I — '

'Yes you can.' Leonhard smiles. His white gloved fingers slip through mine and grasp my hand. 'You managed to win over the four of us. Saving the kingdom will be a breeze.'

My throat chokes up. 'Prince, I… I don't think I can. I'm at my limit.'

'Then push past it. And besides, we'll help you.' He says it simply. Trusting me. Trusting me to save his father for him and offering his aid in whatever way he can. I don't feel like I can do it, yet he's telling me I can.

So I believe him. Because when it comes down to it, if I have a choice —

I'd rather believe than not.

He helps me to my feet, and helps hold me up. 'I will need your help.' I look at everyone. 'All of you. Please.'

Bruno and Kai smile. Eins and Smerdyakov nod, and Ernst smirks. 'Why are you even asking?'

I narrow my eyes. 'So that I can hold you to your word.'

'My heart, I'm wounded. I just took out a squad of mercenaries for you. Or rather, for my lord. On your behalf.'

'And this is why I'm asking for your word.'

And despite everything, we can still laugh, even on a street full of bullet casings.

I look up; the moon burns in a cloudless night sky. 'Anything could happen. There's no template. No script. They could target him at the port; they could even commandeer the ship. And we're cutting it fine for time.'

Eins unsheathes his sword and flicks drying drops of blood from the blade. 'Just hurry up and give us orders, little general.'

'As you wish, and don't call me little. Apologies for collectively ordering four princes, but…'

We stand, facing the coast. 'Let's go make some noise.'

 _To be continued…_


	55. Midnight Coup D'état II

**~ Licht ~**

 _Heine…_ I'm not really in a state to be worrying about it. But part of me is still fretting over whether it will even be physically possible to explain this to Felix and retain my job. I hear his footsteps downstairs. I think he's calling a doctor.

But I never see the doctor arrive. I fade long before then, sinking into unconsciousness. Into a tangle of memories. Falling back through the years, down the inner workings of a clock. Through bronze gears and breaking pocket watch chains, landing irreversibly, as a child, into a time that feels so real that I forget all connection to the present.

I am six years old. Spilled over the floor in the palace library, fallen from merely two rungs up a ladder in a dizzy spell. I thought Bruno would be here. He wasn't.

I sniff. Yet another cold, another spasm of illness. I'm not crying.

I'm crying.

It's a long distance back to my room. Too long a distance. It was too far for me to even walk here in the first place. The underside of a chair halves the sunset in the window. Dusty wooden slats cover my vision: the underside of a plush velvet chair. Cobwebs frost the corners, with a lone spider as the tenant. I drag myself from beneath the chair. I cough a little, a choking rasp.

I could call. Get someone to carry me back. A bored footman, the stiffness of his arms protesting the chore. A maid, fussing over me, asking why on earth I left my room.

I don't call.

The doors open and he walks in, hair a tangle of gold with streaks of silver, despite a young, chiselled face. Long legs that carry him around the room, taking books off the shelves with a speed that speaks of practice, yet also of disinterest. Titles flash. _Orozian Ettiquette. Venetian Fans. Lacework._ I imagine that he's pretending not to see me. Me sitting in on the floor, in a nightgown that's too long for me and also too girlish — but do I have the energy to complain about it? Not really.

So it surprises me when he drops the stack of books with a thud on the table and sits. On the floor.

His eyes are different colours. One brown and one silver.

He points. 'Heterochromatic. It means different colours.'

I almost forget that I was crying. But not quite. That awkwardness of crying in front of someone paints my cheeks with a blush. And I'm still sniffing, unable to help it.

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and holds it out. Yet in his fingers, it shifts and folds and bends, into a snow-white bunny. With twitching ears and everything. It playfully nips my fingers, then dissolves into a handkerchief again. He holds it out. A scar marks his wrist.

But I rub my tears away on my sleeve. And ask him to make the bunny again.

I think he almost gets better with practice. Because somehow, we keep happening across each other. He would happen to pass by my room. A white rabbit would startle me, hopping across the counterpane. I never knew how he got into my room without my seeing him.

It often happened that when I was with my mother, he would be in the room. He was always with her. Leaning against the wall, making light answers to my mother's comments. Yet usually he would just quietly watch her. And I watched her too — her dresses in shades of mint aqua and rose, blonde hair cascading, soft voice and soft skin and jewellery coming loose and scattering over my lap and her bare arms with laughter.

I often wondered why he had a knife.

I often meant to ask. _Rotthie,_ I would say, with the childish lisp that I had yet to outgrow. But I never got to ask, distracted by other things, by life passing day to day, by white rabbits.

We all loved him — me, and my brothers. But the white rabbits? He only made them for me.

I grew older, started chasing different things, learned to ask questions, how to be pointed, how to be poised. How to get answers — yet I could never get them from the enigma that was my mother's friend. He joked that I should become a spy. I said that I was a prince and had no business with such matters. He said it wouldn't matter anyway as spies had to know how to flirt with women. Implying that I knew nothing of such matters. So I said that I'd land myself a girlfriend before the year was out. He laughed. I never truly pinned down what he was, but I felt as though I had an idea.

Then he showed me how to make the white rabbits for myself. A child's trick, really. Winding fabric around your fingers, a snowy illusion. The trick did lose some of its wonder when I knew how to do it for myself. But he held my hands in his, gauntleted with white, and said with a soft whisper that we all have to learn things that we wish we could leave unlearned. A part of growing up.

It would have been the perfect opportunity to ask him about the knife.

But I forgot. And then dark days came. The palace was in mourning. And I woke up, tearstained, after another sleepless night, to find a white rabbit sitting on my pillow.

To see Rotthie walking down the driveway, a single portmanteau in hand.

Because what had tethered him to the palace… no longer existed.

I stare at the ceiling. Felix's bedsheets are crumpled in my fingers, folded into a rabbit's delicate paws and ears and head.

It was the sound of Felix's footsteps that woke me; he comes up the stairs and sits at my side. 'I just called the doctor.' Touches a hand to my forehead and I nod. He sees the white that gloves my fingers. Smiles. It made me smile too, when I first saw it. 'What is that?'

'Nothing. Just a Fonseinian party trick.'

The rabbit falls flat and disappears.

 _Fonseine. Father leaving the country. One thing after another and I —_

 _The harbour._

 _Oh _._

For Rotthie was Fonseinian, wasn't he?

I sit upright, nearly hitting my head on Felix's. 'Felix, I — '

'Whoa, Rich, easy,' he pushes me back onto the pillows. 'You need to — '

I sit up again and shake my head, clinging to his sleeves in desperation. 'Herr Felix, please. I-It's…' I swallow. 'It's about my father, I think he's in trouble. Please,' I beg. 'Please, I need your help.'

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Then he shakes his head. 'Rich, you're ill. You need to rest.'

'I'm fine! I'm already feeling better!'

He presses his lips together and touches a hand to my forehead, and wrist. '…You could be lying.'

' _We've got more important things to worry about!_ ' I yell, then freeze, one hand covering my lips.

Herr Felix takes his hand away. Stunned.

I swallow. 'I'm sorry. But… I'm not kidding.' I run a hand down my side. 'You think this is bad? This is nothing. You haven't seen what's been happening this week. I think something's really wrong.'

He says nothing, staring at the staircase that leads downstairs. Then he turns back to me. 'What do you need my help with?'

'Getting to the harbour.'

He exhales, and runs a hand through his hair. 'Phew. Anything else, while you're at it?'

'Please.' My hands are shaking so hard. 'I'll work overtime, I'll do anything — I can't just stand by and let them…'

'That's enough.'

He walks out of the room.

And returns, dressed, and he takes me in his arms and down the stairs. 'You don't need to beg. I don't know how ill you are, but if you're well enough to argue and this is important, then I'll take you.'

'Thank you.' My fingers tighten on his sleeve. 'Thank you.'

He stops in front of the door. 'This situation… is it really that bad?'

'More than you'll ever know.'

He nods. 'Well, we better go then. Because you're quite the popular staff member at the moment, and the last thing I want is to have to give you time off to attend a funeral.'

I smirk, and reach out a hand to the door handle.

'Then I guess we better get moving.'

 _To be continued…_


	56. Midnight Coup D'état III

**~ Viktor ~**

The carriage rolls through the seaside town. Even though I'm merely leaving the country… it's snowballed. As usual. A procession of armed guards leads the way and follows behind as vanguard, and we're drawing attention as we go. Startled glances from passersby, children leaning out of windows. I briefly lift my fingers in a wave, smile, then pull the curtains shut.

I sigh. I actually wouldn't mind slipping out of the palace undercover and trying a little anonymity for once. With a trusted guard or two. Or maybe Heine. Despite my smile, I shake my head. No. I need to start protecting him, but not by controlling him. By giving him safety and not offering him danger. I need to talk to him when I get back. To try to explain, try to explain why I can't let him charge off into the firing line again, even though I don't really understand why.

Yet it's a nice idea. Leaving in the middle of the night together, travelling the familiar streets we grew up in, cornering well-worn lampposts and laughing in the glow spilling from the door of a lively tavern. Sharing jokes, memories. Maybe even seeing somewhere new.

The carriage halts, and I fasten my coat over my clinking uniform. I'm beyond taking the effort to manage the countless medals and yards of gold braid. The novelty of these affairs has worn off well before now. I step from the carriage, toss a quick smile and a wave over my shoulder to the crowds before walking up the gangplank. It does make it worth it, a little. Not the fame, but knowing that I'm working to help real people and not just signing papers in my gilded box of an office. The waves churn below, and I take I watch my step.

Yet… We can't really care for and help every single person in the world, or in one's kingdom. We aren't made that way. We would break under the strain or run dry as to what we could give. I step off the gangplank and switch into the gait that you learn from countless times at sea. At best, we can care for the people we know and emphasise with the rest through them.

If I hadn't met Heine, I could never established a connection with the people of my kingdom.

Without Heine, I never would have learned to fight in the way that earned me a terrifying reputation through all of the Western Continent.

Who would I have been if I hadn't met Heine?

I lean against the railing, resting my arms on it, and I try to fend off the waves of dizziness and fatigue that I've been keeping at bay. I vaguely note that I should be going below deck. But I haven't come across anyone yet, other than two officials at the bottom of the plank. I imagine everyone is waiting inside — but still, it won't be unreasonable to stay at the railing until the ship sets out.

A gull arcs overhead. A mournful note that flutes into a wail, fades, echoes.

This feels… lonely. I chuckle, but it feels bitter. Surrounded by people constantly, king of six million subjects — even now being watched and cheered by the crowds on the shore. And I'm lonely.

My mind automatically wanders to Heine. I wonder if he's been on a ship before. I don't think so. I can see him standing at the railing, unsteady, like a wobbly kitten, and he'd probably hiss if I offered him my arm. Yet he'd take it anyway.

But… I pause. I don't normally…

But I let myself. Slowly.

Remembering her blonde hair, her eyes. A strand of pearls that snapped and sprayed over the water. The rowdy fit of laughter that followed.

Silk and velvet, dainty feet. Running barefoot on the deck. A waist that I could circle with my hands.

Making a necklace of shells for our only son, who she hated being away from. Losing her hat to the breeze. I nearly fell overboard when I snatched it out of the air.

A night spent on seasickness, reading in bed together in our cabin. She sulked that she had to have fallen ill, whereas I didn't. As though it depended on sheer force of will. Strong and brave and funny, my helpmeet in every sense of the word.

Then we realised that it wasn't seasickness. And we were so happy that we cried.

I rest my hands on the railing. It hurts. As tender and beautiful the memories are, they're bittersweet. Like her perfume.

The light reflecting off the water paints the black of the deck in slathers of silver and murky blue.

I pull back. Away. I close my Pandora's box. Yet the locks and chains are gone, and there's nothing remaining to hold it shut.

My queen. And Fonseine. The weight of it sinks heavy in my chest. Why would someone dredge up the past? After all this time?

I still can't make a connection. I've cycled through everything. People, places. Reasons. Yet I've drawn a blank. And Eins is the only other person I know who could deal with something so large in scale and I haven't heard from him in a while. He's likely trying to stay as far away from my family's mess as possible. I can hardly blame him.

I wonder. It's so often the way — that the protagonist works out exactly who the killer is right before the spotlight shines and the perpetrator is revealed. Life doesn't fall into place like the plot of a novel. And I'm not a clever main character. If anything, Heine's the main character this time. So what does that make me? I turn to head below deck, to play the part, to charm and please.

He leans against the wall. A yard or so away. The realisation kicks hard. No, I'm not clever at all.

My guards are nowhere in sight.

He pushes off the wall and joins me at the railing. As though we're merely two old friends. As though his knife isn't at my back. He disarms me, one-handed. He throws my sword from my reach. And the knives hidden at my waist. And the dagger in my boot. All of it gone in a few seconds, with quiet precision, until he stands shoulder to shoulder with me with his knife resting against my back.

'Did you get bored of Fonseine?' I ask.

'Did you get bored of Glanzreich?'

I don't answer. The wind stills. 'So what now?'

'Nothing. Not yet.'

'…Can you tell me why? For old time's sake, if nothing else?'

'Don't ask me what you already know.'

'…You could never have outstayed your welcome. Please. We would have — '

The knife taps my back and I stop. He looks across the water. 'If you wish, to know, Your Majesty…' His voice drops. 'You killed your precious rose.'

My breath leaves as though punched from my chest. 'What are you _saying_ — '

'If only she had merely died.' The knife races over my neck, cradles my jaw. Touches skin. I don't feel the paper-thin cut open. 'Yet she died a far worse death, all because of you. And your kingdom didn't even have the grace to remember her name.'

My shoulders rise, as I battle for control, for words. But I come up empty. And he knew I would.

But I can't believe it.

'You don't mean this. You're lying. I know you are.'

But I can't read his eyes at all.

 _To be continued…_


	57. Midnight Coup D'état IV

**~ Heine ~**

When listing Glanzreich's many selling points, its waters usually don't come to mind. Namely because Glanzreich is a landlocked kingdom and only has access to the ocean by its foreign territories, but it still lays a strong claim to the seas regardless. The armed forces boast a strong navy; trade and commerce by sea is prosperous, and the ocean itself is crystal clear.

Yet many European countries can boast of crystal-clear waters — and we may be about to lose even that claim, as I fear that the waters are about to be bloodied.

However long it normally takes to get from Wienner to the harbour, we did it in less — several hours of riding so fast that we nearly killed our horses, with only Leonhard and Eins's skill keeping us from killing ourselves along the way.

Several hours of me tipping from one side of the scales to the other, back and forth: having the time to recover on one hand, and shattering piece by piece on the other, and unable to know if I would even be able to do anything once we got there.

It was only Leonhard's voice in my ear every minute, asking, 'Are you all right?' Over and over and over and forcing me to answer him so that I didn't pass out and either fall or shut down altogether. That was the only thing that kept me going. That and Viktor.

We were so frantic in our rush that we barely had time to plan, much less the ability to talk over the thunder of hooves. All we have is a couple of fragments and nothing more, because we don't even _know_ what's going to happen.

 _We'll get to the harbour!_

 _And stop the ship!_

 _And shoot everything that moves!_

 _Ernst…_

 _And do you have a more effective plan, my prince?_

 _If you've got time to talk back then come up with one yourself!_

We don't have a plan — all we have is our guns and skills and a messy tangle of loyalties and a single objective — save the king.

And here we are.

The coast glows with the white lights of the ship, by far drowning out the flecks of candlelight in windows, a sea of amber that spills to the docks, to the monolithic shape that blocks out the moonlight.

'Ugly thing,' Ernst says. 'You'd think it was from Orosz.'

Eins heaves a sigh. 'That's not politically correct.'

Smerdyakov grunts. 'Well, he's not wrong.'

Our ensemble has gathered on a ridge above the port town, with assorted horses, the wind ruffling our hair. And we are not the only ones out on the town tonight. Given everything that's happened this week, the portion of the military wasn't already in the area to secure the king's departure has converged. Members of the Royal Guard may have even been redirected here, leaving the pathetic security skeleton we found at the palace. We may as well call it a party.

'I'm only talking about their ships. Good grief. Insulting another nation's weaponry and military is the only outlet we have in politics; heaven forbid we find out what happens when _that's_ taken off the table.'

My eyes flicker over the water. No sign of Viktor. They haven't pulled up the plank yet, but I think they're about to. He must have already boarded. I can see life on the ship's decks.

'What's the name of the ship?'

That cuts through the commentary. Eins looks over at me. 'It's painted on the ship's side?'

'Yes, but tell me direct from memory, if you would.'

It's a strange request. 'S.S. _Jeune_.'

'Then explain to me why this ship has S.S. _Froide_ emblazoned on its hull.'

It takes a moment for it to sink in.

Ernst throws up his hands. 'It's not even the same d ___ _ship_.'

'A problem, yes?' Then it really sinks in. It's not even the same ship. It's completely different. And that means essentially that everything is different.

I'm grateful for Leonhard at my back, to hold me up. 'Then that means anyone could have control of the ship, and…'

Eins rubs the back of his neck. 'It's still a Fonseinian ship. We're on the brink of starting a world war here.'

'I don't follow,' I say.

Eins stops and turns to me. 'Oh. That's classic.' I cut him a look and he continues. 'My father was going to Fonseine all along. A diplomacy meeting. We even thought Fonseine was implicated indirectly in this in some way — but actually responsible? We didn't go that far. Yet here we have a Fonseinian ship.'

Before this game even started, Viktor was going to Fonseine. 'Who was he? The person behind this?'

The one question I still haven't received a proper answer to, despite asking a dozen times. We've had a busy evening.

'Rossaine Savaz.' Eins's eyes flicker. 'He was our mother's bodyguard.'

The shock circulates. 'That makes… sense.'

Bruno adjusts his glasses, a grim look on his face. 'He was at the palace this evening. He fought the guards off almost-single handedly, and he saw me. He chloroformed me, to keep me quiet, I imagine.'

'And I saw someone leaving the palace on horseback when we were kidnapped,' Kai adds. 'He was riding quickly.'

'To get to the harbour,' I realise.

'So he must have been the one that that boy said was from the university,' Ernst adds. 'He must have led the jailbreak then come here.'

'It was him.'

All of us look at Eins. 'How are you so certain?'

'Because when he was arrested at the university, Ernst and I were _there_.'

My word, they were. Rossaine would have literally been walked _right past them_ as the constabulary took him away.

'He was still at the palace when I still lived here,' Eins says. 'I recognised him, and sent a telegram to the palace the next day, yesterday. Then all of this happened tonight. I thought it was a run-of-the-mill communication breakdown, but the telegram was purposefully misplaced.' He looks at Bruno and Kai. 'If Licht was here, he'd be able to point him out to you in a crowd. Out of all of us, Licht was the closest with him.'

 _The drugs… The medication…_ Was Rossaine protecting Prince Licht?

'Tell us more,' I order. 'We need to know everything I can.'

'He was with our family for many years. He returned to Fonseine shortly after the queen's death.'

 _And how did the queen die?_ But we don't even have time for nostalgia, much less that kind of thinking. Much less with the princes present. But I go down a similar path. 'And why would he now be targeting the royal family?'

Eins shifts, and his horse shifts beneath him. 'I don't know. The queen only passed a few years ago. As we all know, since Adele is the youngest of the royal line and she's merely three years of age. And… Rossaine was very close with the queen, given his work. It was unavoidable, but it nearly caused a scandal. That was the depth of the ties they had. I imagine that when he left, it was because there was nothing left to tie him to the palace.'

'And how much proof do you have?'

'Enough. Payments. Paper trails. Evidence of independently hired outside-help. But it's strange.' Eins stares at the ship. 'In the time I knew him, he was professionalism personified. But in this situation… it's as though he's asking us to catch him.'

I glance at the princes. Their faces betray them. Traces of memory, of the man that they knew who then left. I imagine they all got along well, as the children of his mistress. But still… if he cared for her and all of them so much, why would he go to such lengths to hurt them?

The sound booms. A solid thunk of metal, echoing over the water.

They're pulling up anchor.

I swear. Then remember that I shouldn't swear in front of my students.

'We're going to have to discuss it later — in summary, it's a different ship of unknown intent so we have grounds to seize it. We're going.'

We take the plunge from the ridge and hit the cobblestones with a crash. The hourglass has turned.

We whip through the streets; water pours in a thunder from the bare metal of the anchor chain, dumping a frothing avalanche back onto the ocean. The links disappear, one at a time. Eaten by a gaping mouth in the hull. The town hugs the cliffs and narrow shore, towering over us, over the ship.

Kai and Bruno keep with our frantic pace, riding doubles. 'How long?' Kai yells over the din.

I calculate. 'Ten minutes, at best!'

We break from the streets into the docks, startling the armed forces standing by. In mere seconds Eins has control over the situation. 'The ship is hostile,' he snaps, striding through the crowds of soldiers. 'His Majesty is in danger and the situation is critical. Authorisation to engage!'

The thunder of boots on stone explodes in my head like a storm of firecrackers.

Yet how does one engage with something hundreds of yards above one's head? We have soldiers, yet nine-millimetre rounds are going to do _ against a reinforced hull. It's getting loud. Chaotic. The shadow of the ship drowns us and our horse prances, despite Leonhard's efforts to steady it.

A blaring alarm — a ship's horn that someone on the docks has gotten a hold of — rends the air. Yet the anchor keeps rising and showers us with falling mist. No life up on the ship's decks now. Leonhard grasps my shoulder, desperate. 'Heine, what do we do?'

Church bells start tolling. The crescendo of panic escalates, affecting even me. I don't know. I honestly don't know. If the ship gets the anchor up — dread sinks into my stomach, with a lurch. If they pull up the anchor then they'll have Viktor out in open water and we'll never get him back.

'We've got to stop the ship,' I whisper. I snap out of my daze; pull the reins and pivot to the others: Rosenberg, Smerdyakov, Bruno, Kai, myself.

'We've got to stop the ship! Ernst, get up on a roof and start sniping; I want an extra set of eyes.' He grins, and vaults off his horse and disappears. 'Prince Kai, Prince Bruno. We've got to stop the ship and the only way we can do that is with cannon fire.'

'Y-You can't be serious!' Bruno stammers. 'If we start firing —

'We could sink the ship, I know. But if they get out in open water then we'll lose them altogether.' I point, to the open hole that's taking the anchor chain. 'If we can stop them winding the anchor up then we've got a chance. The port has its own battlements. You learned how to fire cannons at military academy, Prince Kai, and Prince Bruno, you can calculate the trajectory. Smerdyakov, you can take them.'

Smerdyakov merely nods, but Kai interjects. 'But if we risk sinking the ship, then how will we get Father out? And how can we board the ship to get to him even if we don't sink it?'

My thoughts crash and whirl — I hadn't thought that far ahead. Then I realise that we may not be able to load the cannons before the anchor pulls up. And we have to rescue Viktor above all else. I'm going dizzy. I could go after him, but I can't climb the sides of the ship, or climb the anchor chain, and we can't board the ship, which is why we're _firing on it_ —

'What if we, you know, do that.' Leonhard gestures behind me. 'This.'

'Time is rather of the essence, Prince…'

He fumbles, then gives up and points. 'If we go up to the ridge, then we could go from there and go across the rooftops and kind of… get onto the ship. Maybe jump. I think.'

 _Heilige _._ That was the least cohesive thing I've ever heard but it _makes sense._ My eyes snap over the route, from the ridge to the tiled rooftops to the decks, escalating, to a sheer drop over the ship.

'Do you think you can do it?' I ask.

'I-I think so.'

'Good enough.' Leonhard pulls the reins and the horse arches, nervously. 'Prince Bruno, Prince Kai, Smerdyakov, head to the battlements. Try to get a shot in at the hull around the anchor and break the machinery, at the least it may scare them into stopping. If that fails or if the anchor chain breaks, shoot out the hull before they get to open water and I'll get Viktor out before the ship sinks.'

I'm glad Eins is too busy dictating the troops to hear me, because he would be probably have my head for the risk I'm about to take.

'Y-You're sure, Master?' Bruno asks, mildly terrified.

The anchor groans, and Leonhard jerks the horse around to the street. 'We're out of time, and options.' Leonhard snaps the reins and we blaze. 'Besides!' I yell over my shoulder. 'You're my apprentice — what's a bit of advanced trigonometry and calculus?!'

I can see the dust as Bruno whisks Kai and Smerdyakov away in the wake of my motivational speech.

The anchor breaks the surface. We cut along the ridge and the horse's hooves beat a frantic 6/8 time signature — I catch a glimpse of the sheets of water plunging off the anchor before the world tilts and we slam into the roof, skidding for purchase, and the next, and the next, and roof tiles shatter and spit with each landing and leave a trail of dust and carnage in our wake.

Leonhard sits, rigid, weaving and bending the reins, fighting to stay in control as we slip and skid. The edge comes up, faster, faster, then we're streaking through the air — And I realise the boat's moving. Slowly. Gaining even in the mere seconds that we rode, a few inches that we didn't allow for.

I grab the prince's arm — ' _Prince, move!_ ' — and jump and drag Leonhard with me — time stops, and we clip the railing and slam to the deck and roll and hit the wall. A geyser plumes below. The horse did not fare as well as us —

BOOM

The world shakes. The flash and thunder burn hot, marking sputtering stars in our vision. As if we weren't dizzy already.

We lie in a tangle. Stunned. Leonhard's chest rises and falls beneath my hands. 'H-Haah. Wow.'

I get my breath back, then pull myself off him. And stand up. Which is a miracle in and of itself. That little poisoned cocktail of adrenaline seems to have given me the push I needed to get moving agan. The boat rocks heavily beneath my feet, from the waves, from the blast. Something I'll have to allow for. I walk to the railing, and inspect the lifeboats that are anchored to the sides of the ship. I set to work untying the restraints on one of them.

'Heine?' Leonhard picks himself up, and winces. 'What are you doing?'

He's favouring his right leg. Perhaps injured now, perhaps still sore from his original kidnapping.

I get the restraints loose. 'Get in.'

He blinks. 'Huh?'

'I need you to get to safety. It's not safe for you to stay here.'

'But what about you — '

'I've got work to do. Work which I can't do if I'm worrying about — '

He snatches my hand and the pain spills over in a torrent — 'But then I'd just be running away _again_!'

 _Running away?_

Running away. What I've always told him not to do, what I've tried to train out of him. Yet without warning I pulled an about-face on him with no explanation, telling him to get out, to escape, to run for his life, oh so many times.

I push him into the boat and he falls in, too startled to fight me. 'Running away can have practical applications, Prince. It can save your life. Didn't you learn that with your dramatic exit from the library?' I take his hand, and grip it. And my voice betrays me, catching on the facets of my emotions. 'Running away from your duties and running for your life are two different things Prince. I'm sorry I never explained.'

'But what about _you_ — '

'I'm an adult and I can protect myself. Besides.'

Time stops for a moment.

'I didn't give you a choice last time. Nor am I this time. It's my choice, and I'm choosing to protect you.'

 _His eyes are so blue. Just like yours, Viktor._

He looks away, with a blush. 'I'm not a child.'

No. Little by little, he'll lose his innocence, whether taken by others or chipped away as he's refined into a prince that could be a true candidate for the crown. He can't remain a child forever, no matter how much I wish to protect him and keep him safe.

I lean forward and take him in my arms. 'I know you're not. But please. Let yourself be a child for a little while longer.'

Tears spatter my neck. Like a constellation.

'Be careful.' And he hugs me tight. 'You're the only teacher that's ever been able to catch me.'

He pulls back and shakes me by the shoulders. 'And I'll be d_ed if I have to find myself a new tutor!'

My heart hurts, and my smile hurts, and somewhere deep down, I think I'm happy. 'I'll come back, Prince.' I grasp his finger in mine. 'That's the least that I can do.'

His eyes widen. With tears.

I pull up the lever, the one that will drop him hundreds of yards to the black sea below. 'Prince, you need to hold on or you'll get thrown out when you hit the water.'

'Heine. Be careful.' His voice breaks with urgency. 'Please.'

The lever finally drives home. 'Get to shore and enjoy the fireworks, Highness.'

'Wait… _Heine!_ — '

Gravity snatches him from my view. Another geyser erupts, even higher than the first.

I step back. Face the deck. Shift my weight, loose and reckless. Draw my gun. Exhale. And go.

 _To be continued…_


	58. Midnight Coup D'état V

**~ Viktor ~**

The ship rocks in the wake of the explosion. Two blades slide from Rossaine's wrists and I'm nearly thrown over the railing. For a second, I wonder if I should risk letting the momentum carry me and jumping over the railing. But then he pulls me back from the edge and fastens my arms behind my back. Opportunity lost.

The bonds lash my arms and hands together. The docks have come to life in a mess of flame and panic, with everyone finally well aware that ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem.

'You shouldn't be smiling, Highness.'

'It's "Your Majesty."'

It's that I couldn't help but think who would be crazy enough to fire on the ship. Rather, who would be creative enough to. And who never likes working in a group.

The knife at my neck wipes the smile from my face. He forces me from the railing, further into the shadowed regions of the deck. To a dark doorway. Leading Below deck. If he gets me down there, then I'm not coming back up. I resist, yet I don't have a choice. We go below.

We go down staircases, past the red-carpeted halls of first class, to the depths of the ship. My whole body is shaking with tension, and a dozen different ways to escape run through my mind, but I don't know if I can get my arms from behind my back fast enough to take him on without getting killed. Yet I'm far from in fit condition to even do so. I don't even know if I'm strong enough to break the bonds on my own.

We pass gas lights studding the walls in wire cages. We walk over the hiss of the steam engine beneath us.

I know this isn't good. Because if the ship sinks… I'm trapped here.

'So what's the plan? You want me to go down with the ship?' I lean against the wall for balance, ignoring the ache in my arms. 'I take it you weren't expecting them to open fire on you.'

He makes me wait. Making it clear that he's in charge, not me. His lips quirk. A hint of a smile. 'Actually, I was.' I blink. 'Full of surprises, that one.'

 _That one._ Heine. He… knows what Heine can do. He expected this. I close the distance and I could care less that my arms are bound. 'You son of a _gun_.'

He raises an eyebrow. 'You're going to have to try harder.'

'You hurt him. You _destroyed_ him — I had to pull him from the case because of what you did to him.'

The blade drops from his sleeve and snaps into his hand. But he can't shut me up that easily — he's going to have to stab me with the d_ thing before I stop giving it to him.

He holds my gaze. 'I'm aware. What a pity.'

I stop.

'You… You planned all of that, you targeted all the princes, just to…' My knees could buckle without a lot of effort. '…just to get rid of Heine?'

'He was too talented. I couldn't risk having to deal with him.' I can't think. Can't process. He sees the look on my face, and rests a hand on my arm, such a familiar gesture that it makes me want to punch him. 'Don't worry. I just sent him on a chase around the kingdom to fill in time. It seems the palace managed to misplace their princes...'

I'm frozen.

 _Then, and now. My boys —_

I leap over my bound hands and fly at him, yelling, 'I'm going to kill you — !'

He slams me against the wall with my arms above my head and his knife at my neck before I can even finish the sentence.

'It would sound more effective if it wasn't coming from a man whose hands were tied.' He still watches for any tricks from me, however. He lowers his voice, hard whisper. 'If you think I did this to hurt your children, then you're a fool. Besides,' he says bitterly. 'Why visit the sins of a father upon his children?'

I can't take it any more — composure be d_ed. 'Rossaine! Shut _up!_ This isn't _you_! Whatever it is that you're doing, _stop it_!'

Silence. And d_ him, his expression is so neutral and glassed over that I can't even read him. Can't tell if this is real. Because this isn't the man that I know, and I just don't know anything anymore.

'And you think you know me?' he says. His laugh is near silent. 'I only disappeared a few years ago yet when all hell broke out you couldn't even remember me to blame me, if nothing else. I signposted the way and you couldn't get a clue.'

'I did remember you but I _trusted you_!' That's the knife in my gut, the pain that really aches. I trust so few people — because of reasons like these. 'You were my confidante. Rose's companion.' His gaze hardens. 'You even took the time to help our sons when we couldn't.'

'Don't think I was doing it for your sake.'

'ROSSAINE!'

I don't want to believe it. That he changed so completely. That the man I knew disappeared like an illusionist's white rabbit.

'You get too attached to people, Your Majesty.'

'The same could be said for you. What is this — some sick way of getting "vengeance" on her behalf?'

The blade bites beneath my collar. I pushed him too far. 'Think about it. If you would. How did she die?' I falter, and the blade bites deeper. ' _How did she die?_ '

'She… died after Adele was born.'

'You're avoiding the question. Adele was what — your sixth child?'

The pipes and fixtures of the wall dig into my back. 'Rose died of a chronic _illness_ — '

'And it didn't help that you wore her into the ground and kicked her while you were at it.'

I shoulder the blade aside. ' _Enough._ What are you even trying to _say?_ What about our family made you think — You can't believe that, Rossaine, please!'

'Why are you begging so hard?' His eyes take on a strange look. 'Do you actually think you're guilty?'

'I think you're _demented_ — '

He covers my mouth with a hand. He stills. Listening. After a moment, he tenses, and pushes me through a doorway into an open room.

He closes the door. 'We have company.'

'Who'd you invite?' I'm sick of the interchange, sick of this. Maybe some soldiers managed to get onto the ship somehow, but it's not going to do me any good.

'Tell me. Who do you think is firing the cannons?'

 _It's Heine, isn't it?_ 'I don't — '

 _And the classes at military academy… I enjoy them. And firing the cannons is… fun._

 _Auf keinen Fall_. Kai. Kai is down there. Free. Safe. And that means —

Rossaine just dragged me from the hall to an open room. When fighting in narrow spaces, smaller opponents have the advantage.

It's not soldiers — _Heine's_ up there. Left for dead and he's come all the way here.

But I know. By the set of the knives in Rossaine's hands, by his stance. Heine could maybe even have taken him, if he was at full capacity. But he's not.

If he comes down here, Rossaine is fully capable of killing him.

 _To be continued…_


	59. Midnight Coup D'état VI

**~ Heine ~**

I could die.

I flip over a railing and dive through a hatch. No graceful catlike landing this time — a thud, and a dash to the shadows. I crouch, panting for breath, a gun in each hand. My torn wrist is crying, bleeding, as I work the hammer and spin the barrel. A deep pain throbs in my side. A ripped stitch.

I could die. Easily. But just a little more. _Please._ I pray the words. _I can't do it by myself._ And swallowing, I say it. An echo of a promise I made twenty-five years ago. _If you can save him, I'll do anything you want._

'I'll even die.'

The vow opens a half-healed scar. I'll do it. I'd even be happy to.

But I need him to live. All of us do.

And that's what keeps me going; gets me to my feet and gives me the strength for another few steps.

I stalk down the halls, expecting to run into guards or even mercenaries at any moment. If it's true that the one behind this is was the queen's bodyguard, he'll be good. Definitely better than me, in the technical sense. And stronger.

It scares me. A fear that uncoils and slithers down my spine, crushing me. Sepia flashes, of being attacked in the clock tower. Of being assaulted in an alleyway. Of being bruised. Glass crashing over my head. Blows from someone stronger, someone on top of me. But I keep going anyway. Even the nightmares, even the times when I didn't have a choice — they built my will to persevere, for the times when I could back out.

I'm fracturing. Two personas, overlapping. Two sides, quietness and rage. The red carpet of first-class gives way to metal staircases, and I go deeper and deeper. More and more, I'm becoming merely a vessel for a monster that lurks deep within, one that's harder and harder to chain each time I let it loose. One that leaves deep claw marks when it surfaces.

It snarls, rumbling deep within. Cracking chains and breaking bars. It's all I can do not to give in, to let it ravage me from the inside out. My breath comes shallow, and quick. 'Quiet. Shh.' Because there's no one left to pull me back if I lose control this time.

Gas lights gleam in their wire fittings. One door in the hall is open.

It's bait. Whoever it is, they want me to come in. I stop. I'm already not sure if I can even find my way back to the deck. I'm not familiar with places like these. I need another way to get into the room —

The air rends. I'm thrown into the air and smoke and fire _spits_ — the stench of gunpowder hits me full blast and the shot cleaves the ship and blasts the side of the hull open, letting waves bite and spill over the edge. I scrape to a halt on the floor and get my balance, still in shock.

I can hear the uproar on the docks from here. It's almost as though Licht showed up to have a go — taking a shot with all the care you'd take to aim a popped cork from a bottle of champagne. Smoke wreathes from the battlements, and I see flashes of blond —

And framed in the gashes rent in the ship, only a couple of yards away, I see him.

Bound, and stained with and smoke and ash. The wind snatches at his hair, blowing through the gaping hole. Fragments of the floor fall away. The walls are stripped to girders and pylons.

Viktor. We're merely ten steps or so from each other.

And he's not alone. I sink into a crouch, eyes snapping over the stranger at his side, faster than telegraph signals. Tall. Solid. Knives. Not moving, merely looking me over. Rossaine.

And that's what tells me how this is going to go: it's going to be quick, it's going to be ugly, and it's probably going to end with one of us eviscerated and dead on the floor.

No backup, no help from the shore, and no more cannon fire.

I swap my guns for knives and we meet in a clash of steel.

 _CLANG —_

The blades scrape and bite in a whirl of silver, nicking my edges hard and fast. Our knives lock in a one-two beat, shrieking as they scrape against each other. Even in the rush, I notice his eyes. Heterochromatic. Different colours.

We rip a blade each from each other, then I drop, bending hard, and follow the path of his blow and sink my blade into his foot. Sharpness — a cut to my face.

I flip and vault out of reach in a blur, but my guns are ripped from me even in the air, and he's after me, chasing me, even with the knife through his foot. I run over the breaking floor, and even while moving in a blur my own knife cuts the air and nicks my shoulder. I drop — at the edge of a fatal drop — and sweep a leg out. He sidesteps it and hits me on his way past and I chase after him. Fighting, dancing in a blur of hand-to-hand movements that crack in time like an overwound clock about to explode.

He lifts an eyebrow, finding the time to note my technique even as we're killing each other. 'You're skilled, as I thought. Where did you learn?'

I block a staggering blow with my arm. 'They say life is a good teacher.'

We could be sparring, if it wasn't for the setting, if it wasn't for the fact that one of those punches could kill me if I let it land.

And the anger comes back, cold and hard. That's right, we're not sparring.

The floor breaks, tripping me, and I go down. Shielding my face, taking heavy blows to my ribs — he punches me in my stab wound, forces my broken hand —

' _Heine!'_

Viktor. He took Viktor. Took the princes. He tried to take the people that I _love_ —

My arms are wrenched above my head and my glasses shatter under the weight of a blow. Glass sprinkles my face and tightly shut eyes.

He comes in for the kill —

— and I smash the broken pocket watch into his face.

I scrape it as hard as I can and the shattered glass and metal does more damage than any blade and I even tear a scream out of him. The gashes streak over his neck and I pull my legs up, and kick as hard as I can and get free. And fall.

The ocean below.

I'm knocked flying, and I land so hard that it knocks the air from my lungs, and…

I can't believe it. Blue and gold medals above me, gloved hands already pulling me up. His bonds lie shredded and torn a distance away — ripped by mere strength and force of will.

He caught me. Viktor.

And I grab him by his medallion and yank him right down to my eye level. 'Why aren't you _running_?!'

'And why are _you_ here, Heine — can't you stay put for one minute?!'

'I wouldn't even be here if you weren't so d_ unable to take care of yourself! And don't even _start_ with me!'

'Okay, fine! I was being an idiot! I've been wanting to tell you that ever since I did the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life and put you in that carriage — !'

'Don't even _think_ that you can… Pardon?'

I loosen my grip. Holding the medallion in my fingertips rather than clenching my fingers around it hard enough to shatter it.

He touches his hands to mine. Ash and soot and a weatherbeaten smile that lights his eyes and oh it makes my heart hurt. 'I was an idiot,' he says softly. 'And I did everything wrong. I'm sorry. More than words can say.'

'W-Well, I…'

My voice simply won't work. I clear my throat, my eyes fixed on the medallion. 'W-We don't really h-have time for this right now. I…' I swallow.

And rest my head against his chest. 'I missed you.'

My lodestone. My North Star.

He rests his head on mine, and everything we can't say without our voices breaking is communicated in that touch.

The crash of the waves, the rising water. And the scrapes of Rossaine's knives against the floor And I know that this isn't over. I free myself and crouch, poised, ready for the next blow.

'Heine.'

I look back at Viktor. 'You're in no condition to fight.'

'Neither are you.'

'I'm not the one tripping on narcotics.' Viktor's eyes widen, then the realisation hits and he swears under his breath.

'Listen to me, Viktor.' I brace my hands against the floor and steady my breathing, eyes trained dead ahead. 'You can't risk it, on every level. So let me handle this.'

He rests a hand on my shoulder. 'As you wish. Heine.'

And there's no more time for emotions now.

Rossaine gets to his feet with a scrape and clatter of metal, blinking back the blood that spills into his eyes. A mere haze, a blurry silhouette in my vision.

My glasses. They're smashed, somewhere on the floor.

 _My eyesight is particularly poor, so I dislike having my spectacles off for any length of time._

I can't see _._

 _I can't see at all._

Terror roils in the pit of my stomach; Rossaine may as well have put out my eyes. My vision is a cloudy haze, at best. I bite back a whimper, and force down the fear that rears its head. Until my voice comes out as nothing but steel. 'You,' I say to him. Stalling like my life depends on it. 'Explain this. I'm sure you want to, as you constructed it so elaborately.'

Rossaine flicks the blood from his knives. He weighs up the question, and answers with measured words. 'I'm merely addressing something I should have taken care of long ago. Tell me, Royal Tutor. You know the king so well, yet you knew nothing of his queen?'

I remain quiet. Steady. 'As little as everyone else in the kingdom.'

'Yes. Quite. Strange — that the queen's name seems to be forbidden — isn't it? I suppose it's easier than addressing why she died.'

 _Why she died?_ I feel Viktor tense, behind me. 'And you know why she died, then?' I ask.

Rossaine looks away. Over the water that's rising with every minute. 'I saw it happen. Your king killed her.'

I can't even be bothered with this. Or with being shocked. Especially as I have a feeling that this is going in a different direction. 'Explain. Now.'

He waits — denying the order — then talks. 'Having their first child nearly killed her.'

A growl rumbles behind me.

'It took her six years to recover, then they continued. He didn't give her a choice. It was for the sake of the kingdom.'

 _If Dad thought you'd be a good candidate for the throne then he wouldn't have gone out of his way to have so many kids._

You've got to be joking. Don't tell me that Leonhard hit on the truth.

'She got sicker and sicker, then they had the princess — '

'You _shut up_.' Viktor snaps. 'What were you even seeing when you looked at us? That's not even how things _happened_ — '

'She barely lived past Adele's birth. They weren't even trying to have another child that time.'

An awkward pause. Viktor clears his throat. 'That's not exactly something you can… control.'

I'm too distracted to pay attention to what he's saying. Because while Rossaine is talking to me… the whole time, he hasn't been looking at me. And his eyes aren't matching what he's saying.

I blink, then realise what Viktor said. I cough and nearly choke. 'There's a time and a place for that kind of… humour, Viktor.'

'I'm not kidding!'

I look at Rossaine. Even at my worst, I can still think. And I know that this can't be right.

What kind of judgement would Viktor have possibly needed to make as to Eins'ss fitness for the throne — when the prince himself was only _six years old_?

I get up. 'And I'm not kidding when I say that that's a load of _. I've heard better logic from kindergarteners — and I'm a teacher, for goodness' sake. You're dragging all of us into the biggest political mess that this kingdom has seen in decades because of a reason like _that_? Lord save us…'

Rossaine merely fingers the gashes I carved into his neck. 'You weren't there. You wouldn't understand.'

'No, I wasn't. Fine.' Viktor looks at me, startled. So does Rossaine. 'Fine. If that's your reasoning, if that's your logic. So be it. _But why take it out on her family?_ ' My voice is so hard that is surprises even me.

Rossaine's eyes remain blank. 'I merely took Viktor. I wouldn't hurt her children. I want to see them take the throne.'

'Like h_ you did.' I get up, push Viktor away, and stalk forward. 'You sent a psychopath after Leonhard. Licht was poisoned. Bruno could have died. Kai was nearly gunned down — you shot at his _fiancee_.' I close the distance. 'And how many other people got hurt? Guylian's brother, Estiella's family. And don't pretend you don't know their names.'

'It was necessary.'

'It was cruel. And you're about to kill the king, I'm guessing?' Rossaine's eyes narrow. I laugh. 'You don't want to hurt the princes? You're about to kill their father and destroy their kingdom. Explain that one. And if you say it's for the good of the kingdom, you're just as bad as what you're claiming Viktor to be.'

'Is it that we forgot her?'

It takes a moment for us to break gazes and turn back to Viktor. 'Is it that we didn't remember her?' he asks.

Rossaine looks at him. 'Your best friend doesn't even know of her. What do you think?'

'I wanted to.' Viktor stands, with one hand on a pillar. 'I wanted to remember her. I wanted to tell the whole kingdom: Look. This was your queen. She loved you. She did everything for you.'

Viktor's voice lowers. 'She asked me. When she was dying — to lay her memory to rest. She begged me. She said she didn't want her children to grow up under the shadow of a lost queen — she wanted them to be able to grow up without that weight, without that history hanging over them. She made me promise. So we mourned her, and moved on.'

His voice breaks. 'I gave her my word. I'm one of the only people who remembers her, and you ask me if I've forgotten?'

Rossaine's knife cuts my neck and blood spatters the present. 'I don't care,' he says, and the fight's back on.

I'm done. I was distracted, caught off guard; I'm just stepping backwards into my grave, avoiding the blows from muscle memory and little else. He drives me over the distance, to the gaping, smoking hole in the ship's hull. Blank. Emotionless. Not even with passion for the queen that he's somehow trying to avenge. Even now, about to die, my instincts prick, trying to tell me something. _Something's not right_ — but I don't have time to listen, let alone think. The water roars hard below. I guess I'd rather drown than be stabbed. But…

Viktor reaches out a hand.

And I don't want to _die yet._

I dig in my heels and resist, sparks scattering from my shoes, resisting right on the edge —

 _Because Viktor and I never got to —_

' _ROSS_!'

The scream rends the night.

She sprints down the street, faster than even Prince Leonhard. My eyes snap into focus as best they can. Two men chase her, but she doesn't give a d_ — running in slacks that would make Beatrix jealous, blonde hair following her like a streak of white-hot flame. She whips past Leonhard, past the battlements where Bruno swings around, eyes wide, and she sprints down the docks like there's no tomorrow. ' _Ross_!'

And Rossaine stops, right before I fall. And I kick my gun from the ground and into my hand and fly at him with claws unsheathed — I don't know what's distracting him but I'm not going to waste it — I claw for a grip and draw my gun — he resists, but won't draw a weapon, and he won't hit me, he only blocks my blows as I drive him back. I probably won't get to make the shot, he'll probably wrench the gun from my grip, but he doesn't move —

And I press the trigger —

' _Heine_!'

My finger slips. I whirl, ready to lash out and kill whoever dared to —

Viktor snatches the gun, and seizes my hand. Trying to tame something that never should have been unleashed. The sight lines up the medals on his chest, and my finger's still on the trigger.

And my best friend is in the sights.

'Don't do it, Heine.'

And I cool until there's nothing left but shock.

My finger's still on the trigger. Shaking so badly that I could hardly get it out of the trigger guard even if I tried.

I look at the gun. Then back at him. But…

'B-But…' A whimper escapes my throat.

'But what am I meant to do?'

' _ROSS!_ '

The yell is louder than a fog horn. She stands at the edge of the dock — her pursuers fell in minutes, to the sea of soldiers who were just waiting for someone to lay their hands on, she's —

'Duchess Arra.' A voice like that is hard to forget.

Viktor's eyes widen, and snap between Rossaine and the docks. ' _Heilige —_ '

And I know, without him even needing to explain the details. She was everywhere in Glanzreich, yet imprisoned as if she was in a cage.

Those guards were never her guards.

 _I wouldn't know, of course. What role do women have in such things? And what would we from Fonseine know about spies and such?_

She knew. She had a massive role. She and Rossaine are Fonseinian and he's in the military —

Those guards were her _captors_.

And Rossaine drops to his knees with a crack, his knives skittering across the floor in wide, spinning arcs, before slowly drifting to a halt. His hands splay against the broken metal floor. He takes a ragged breath as though coming up for air.

'Your Majesty, I… Forgive me.'

And the chains holding back the truth snap.

'I'll think about it.' Viktor rests a hand against my shoulder, a long touch, and walks over to him. 'You were… pretending this whole time?'

Rossaine swipes a hand against his face, swiping away the blood so he can see. 'Yes. And I wanted to shoot myself rather than recite all of… that.'

'As you say. But don't apologise to me.' Viktor looks up. 'Apologise to him.'

 _Me?_

Viktor taps a finger against his arm. Waiting. And it's generally not a good idea to make a king wait — particularly one who's just been drugged and had his children kidnapped, and I don't know what you would classify what happened to me as but Viktor does _not_ look happy about it.

Rossaine stands, and turns to me. 'I apologise. It's not enough for what I did to you, but I regret it. Deeply. I had no choice but to not underestimate you when you came at me. If anything, I knew you could very well kill me if you tried. If anything, all of this, all of that… was to remove you. Because we had no chance with Viktor if you were by his side.'

The princes. All of that because I…

 _Am I truly that dangerous?_

And Viktor nods. With a half-smile. Looking me in the eyes.

Not with shame. Not with disgust. Not with fear of who or what I am.

With _pride._

It's too much to take in.

My thoughts keep ticking as I look at Rossaine. 'But you… I don't know your circumstances, but… you act as though you were coerced into this yet you killed innocent people. How can you…'

'You think it was all me?'

And that takes both Viktor and myself aback.

He narrows his eyes, then closes them, exhales, and opens his eyes again. 'Why do you think I'm even here? Why do you think I would attack the royal family?'

Not because of prejudice or revenge, because that was all lies, so…

He rolls his shoulders and loosens the tension in his frame with a crack. 'Everyone is susceptible to blackmail. I was "employed" by another country.'

Arra. Rossaine. Fonseinian. Because why do your own dirty work when you can blackmail one of most skilled soldiers of another country into doing it for you? What better way to redirect everyone's attention?

'Who? Who was it?' Viktor asks. 'And please don't tell me that Fonseine is implicated in this.'

'No. I have connections in the navy — that's how I'm here — but Fonseine doesn't even know. As far as they know, several weeks ago, you backed out of attending the summit due to "family _difficulties_."'

The irony of the statement feels like a slap in the face.

'Who was it that…'

'Count von Lothringen.'

Beatrix's father. Who has been out of the country for _months._ Viktor turns a shade of white. _God help us._

'…Who was in turn blackmailed by Venetian spies.'

Ice trickles down my spine. 'What?'

'That was the "other country."'

 _And what would we from Fonseine know about spies and such? That's_ Venezia's _niche._

Arra wasn't merely mentioning Venezia offhand, a random comparison in a conversation. Covert operations _are_ Venetia's niche. She was saying that _both_ countries played a role.

'The kingdom of Venezia is currently dealing with a small civil war, and Glanzreich controls some of its territories, does it not?' Rossaine's heterochromatic eyes glow with a strange fire in the dark. 'The spies from both sides are also fighting a shadow war on top of that. Then one side decided to target the Kingdom of Glanzreich. They wanted my services, and they placed a second party between me and them. They sent their very detailed instructions through Count von Lothringen, who must have had people poised around him to kill his wife or daughter if he didn't cooperate.' _Beatrix._ 'And they also had people monitoring Arra.'

He looks at us. 'Do you realise how many mercenaries and Venetian spies are in this kingdom right now? How many of you were under threat at one time? I barely managed to keep them in line, and I didn't even have authority over them. I managed to enlist some ex-members of the Fonseinian military to watch out for you, and even then we couldn't fight back. The enemy would have been happy to _kill you all_ if they had the chance. The only reason you were spared, was that I managed to convince them that a massacre wouldn't achieve the result they wanted. For every person I managed to redirect, there were five others who could have spelt your names in _bullet holes_ in your chests.'

 _How would much more badly would things have gone if not for him?_

Yet I can't accept it. 'The princes were kidnapped. Mercenaries raided Schwarz Palace. A _bomb_ was set off in the palace and it nearly killed the princess.'

Viktor looks at me in shock, then back at Rossaine. 'Rossaine?'

Rossaine is frozen, processing. Then finally loses his temper and slams a fist into the pylon at his side. Cracks spider through the metal. 'D_it, Viktor — t-they said they were going to cut the wires when you left. And Schwarz, I didn't even…' He stares at the ground. 'I even had someone watching the princess because I knew that she…' He breaks off. 'Was so… precious, to you.' And from the pain in his eyes, I know the princess was precious to him too.

Rossaine runs a hand through his hair and looks out over the water. 'It's enough to make you want to break something. I traced them back to the source and worked out who they were in hours. Yet I couldn't do a single thing.'

I hold up a hand. 'Wait a moment. Let me clarify all of this. You're saying that you were blackmailed by someone who was blackmailed by two factions of rogue spies in a country that's currently in civil war that is targeting Glanzreich for _what_ end?'

'Political unrest. It seems that they rationalised that if they provoked you — and the kingdom — enough, it would bait Glanzreich into cracking down on Venetia, which would end both the shadow war and the civil war. If anything, they just want Glanzreich to get involved, for better or worse, and end their country's dispute.' He gives us a disturbed smile. 'Either that or they're just lashing out. Because that's about as much as this whole insane affair has amounted to.'

Viktor mutters something about cracking down on them so hard that they'd disappear off the world map.

I turn away, and even go so far as to kick a piece of broken rubble. 'This is absurd. I can't take out my frustration on an intangible _concept_!'

I turn back to the other two and Viktor's hiding his expression behind a hand. I point at him. 'Do _not_ start with me, Your Majesty.' I rein my temper and take a breath. 'If they wanted political unrest,' I say, drawing out my words, 'then they should have taken a potshot at Viktor during a state dinner and spared the rest of us the _grief_.'

'My word, Heine, have a heart — '

Another cannonball rends the air and cracks the hull, further down the ship, and we feel it heave beneath our feet. Water gushes, flooding over our feet, and washing up against our thighs. Time's up.

Rossaine draws his knives. 'We need to go — '

'Wait. Rossaine.' Viktor touches his arm, and asks a question under his breath. And his eyes give away that he already knows the answer. 'Were you ordered to kill me?'

'No, Your Majesty.' The sound of boots thunders above our heads, and Rossaine gives Viktor a knowing look. 'But I'm not entirely certain what the mercenary squads on the ship have in mind.'

Viktor steps back and cracks his knuckles, smirking as the three of us face the oncoming hordes. 'Lovely of them to give us something to work out our "frustration" on, eh, Heine?'

And they crash into the room — swords, and guns, and ugly pistols of Oroz design. Whether the men are from Venetia or not, I can't tell. Viktor catches the short sword that Rossaine tosses him; licks his lips.

And we run.

We move, too fast, too quick, dropping the ones in our path and stealing their blades and leaving the rest to kill each other in the confusion. Blood and water sprays. The ship is turning as it falls, tilting the corridors until we're running along the walls, pulling ourselves up railings. Water sucks and fills the long shaft of flooding dark beneath us, and Viktor hefts me over the edge. 'Almost there. Just hang on.'

'I'm fine.' It comes out with a shaky breath and a catch in my voice. I don't know if that's true or not. We break out through a hatch and hit the surface. The wind gusts, they pour from the shadows. And Rossaine dances in a blur of silver and bullets, carving us a path at risk of his own life.

Viktor pulls me to the edge of the ship, and we catch hold of the railing. We've drifted from the shore, our progress only slowed because the ship's going down. Will we have to swim? My stomach churns at the thought. I've got open wounds, there's no chance —

Viktor pulls me along and we run down the deck. 'We'll take a lifeboat.' He drags me, his hand in mine — but we're not laughing this time, this time we're running for our lives.

Two burst from the shadows — A metal length of pipe, a blade. I don't even think about it. I just vault down the deck and stab one; wrest the pipe off him and crack them both over the head with it before pushing them over the railing. Perfectly executed, with a sick, mechanical precision. One hits the deck. The other hits the water.

I don't want this any more. I want it to stop.

Viktor reaches out a hand. To steady me. And I reach to take it. Craving the safety it promises, desperate for it. My eyes find his blue ones — and I see the man with a gun trained on us.

I run. Past Viktor.

He turns, and he turns too slow. The trigger clicks in a fragment of silence.

No matter how hard he tries, he can't stop me. From charging in. For running down the sights of a gun.

Because I'd do it for him.

Every.

Single.

 _Time._

I jump and the shot hits me broad. Rips through me and punches out the other side.

And I fall.

.

.

.

'HEINE!'

 _To be continued…_


	60. Midnight Coup D'état VII

**~ Viktor ~**

We had known each other forever, yet our first 'proper' meeting was at a ball arranged by our parents. In typical fashion, I was written onto her dance card. It was safe to say that our marriage contract was already written up, despite our not being able to marry for several years at least.

Yet we didn't meet on the dance floor. We met on a balcony, I snatching a break from the pressure and crowds, her watching the stars.

In the dark, unknowingly — despite seeing each other almost every week at royal events and at each other's palaces and everywhere between — we managed to offend each other and become best friends before we each worked out who the other was.

We grew closer. In constructed meetings, and in snatches of fresh air away from watching eyes. We talked about what we wanted things to be like, with an honesty that probably would have made our parents faint. I loved her, like a best friend, yet with something more. Heine laughed when I tried to explain it. And never once was he jealous. I loved him for it.

Maybe it was naive, to think that we could find love in an arranged marriage. But we did, didn't we?

I took the throne. Soon, she took her place at my side, and we were closer than ever before. We shared a palace, a kingdom, a throne room, a bed — and soon we shared a child. A prince, with black hair that we laughed over, the complete opposite of our matching blond locks.

It took her a long time to recover. Even for a girl as strong and healthy as her. But she was so happy, and so was I. Years passed, and we realised we were expecting another child. She continued to build our family, and I continued to build the kingdom. Her in the palace, me on the battlefield. We sometimes joked that our palace was more of a battlefield than any real battlefield, with so many energetic children around. Despite often being called overseas or away for royal duties, she poured as much time into our children as she could. Though really, I would give the credit for building the kingdom to her. Because she built our family.

Then after our fifth son was born, it took her a long time to recover. We realised that something else was wrong. It was possibly the most innocent, painless illness she could have. She would even be able to continue life as normal. She would live for many more years. She smiled at the doctor, and thanked him for his time and his faithful service to our family's health and the kingdom.

Yet she sobbed so hard in my arms that night. Not for her, but for me. For our children. Because she didn't want to miss a single, beautiful, painful second of their growing up.

And so we made it count. She poured her days into our children's lives, even more than before. She raised them, built their futures, instilled them with hopes and dreams, and ideas.

But she wanted to do so much more. She outlined it, tracing maps in the air as we lay in bed at night. She wasn't even bitter. She told me everything she wanted me to teach my sons when she was gone. I'd been trying to control my emotions. To be steady, to be an anchor for her. But that's when I finally caved in and sobbed, sobs that wracked my shoulders, stifling my pain with a pillow.

Yet I didn't know if I could do it — if I could be a father let alone a mother to them in her stead. I had the kingdom to oversee — we were finally past war, but now we had new issues, new territories to deal with. I didn't know if I could even do enough for our children.

It was a simple question, the one she asked. _I know we've had many royal tutors for the boys, and heaven knows it's time that we put our foot down and made them stick with one, but… Do you know anyone that we could trust to raise our boys and take our place?_

And Heine's amber eyes flashed into my head.

And I promised her, promised her that I knew someone I could trust with my life, with our family. Who could drop everything and come whenever we needed.

She never got to meet him. We had duties, Heine had his students, and she said she didn't want to. She wanted my friend to be able to come and be part of the family without carrying the responsibility of carrying out her _legacy_ , she said, laughing as she said the word. I told her not to laugh. Because she truly had built a legacy. Then she told me something.

We were expecting another child. We were told that if she gave up the child, then she would live longer. He even had the pills and instruments laid out on the counter.

My queen was a thunderstorm of silk and fury that day.

Her eyes changed, from a pretty cat to a lioness, and she politely informed the doctor that he was _sacked_ , on grounds of potentially coercing an individual into infantcide, and then she turned on her heel and walked out like a queen. I was never prouder.

Later, I asked her what she truly wanted — and she wanted to try. She said she didn't want to throw away such a precious gift, to give her up. My wife guessed even then that it would be a girl. _We need one girl_ , she said. _One that I can dress up in cute outfits and that the rest of you can spoil rotten._ We named her Adele.

She made me promise something on her deathbed.

The room was soft and grey, already mourning what they knew would come to pass. I didn't leave her side. Curled up beside her, as though I could hold her to this world, keep her in my arms and safe. They allowed it — only because we all knew she didn't have a lot of time left.

We had told the children. We didn't want it to become a big catastrophe, something that marred their childhoods, and scarred them. We introduced the concept slowly, over time, that one day she was going to leave us. They were upset. We all were. My wife most of all. But we worked through it. It made us value the time that we had.

She made me promise not to let her death cloud her children's futures. She wanted her children to be able to live their lives without a fabricated legacy propagated by other people dictating their lives. She asked me to let her slip into history and disappear. It broke me. That simple act of caring, even as her breath faltered. I didn't know if I would be able to bear it.

So she made me a deal. If someone remembered her in twenty years, then I could build her a monument, or whatever took my fancy. And to make it pretty, please, not like all those ugly granite statues of dead war generals. I said I would have it made of precious jewels.

That she was my precious jewel.

And please don't ever go.

 _My Rose_ —

And she died with tears on her cheeks and her lips on mine.

All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't save her.

I lost her.

And now I'm losing him.

'HEINE!'

The bullet punches through his back and clatters against the deck; he clips the railing and plummets. And crashes to the deck below.

I pick up the length of pipe and _hurl_ it, overhand at the shooter, and vault over the railing before it even makes impact — but someone beats me to it and with a crack, snipes him from the shore.

A sick rush, the feeling of falling, and I slam into the deck already running.

Five shadows or so block my path. But I do not _care_ —

I draw my sword and carve havoc all the way down the deck in a blaze of silver and blood and fire, cutting my way through and not caring if it's five or a hundred because I'd cut my way through a entire battlefield to get to him.

The last body slams to the deck and I run, up the polished boards, through the blood that runs in a thin, thin river down the slope. He lies crumpled. In a puddle of blood. Blood wells from the hole in his chest, and it mars the white of his shirt. Soaking through his jacket.

' _Heine!_ ' I pull him into my arms and the blood pours in a tide, too much, too much and I can't stop it. 'Oh, no — Heine, talk to me, please —'

I press my hands to the wound. Gasping, desperate. Ripping off my coat and shredding fabric, soaking up the blood. Breathing in the metallic scent that takes me back to battlefields awash with the stuff, back to an alleyway where a bullet cut through my own chest, where I fell as Heine watched, terrified. Where he snapped and nearly killed everyone, where I begged him to stop, where my voice pulled him back before he fell over the edge. I press my hands to the wound, try to staunch the flow.

'Heine!'

His eyelashes flutter. Sooty on his pale skin. A weak cough. He fingers the wound, and his breath hitches. 'I-I guess I got my wish.' His voice comes out in a rough brogue — an accent that he masked and polished, one that I haven't heard in years.

'Just hold on, I'll — '

He grips my sleeve. He smiles a little. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth and his glasses are gone, and his eyes are too bright. Shimmering with tears. 'I always wanted t' take a bullet for you, Viktor.'

It hits me like a shot to the heart. And he goes limp in my arms.

'Heine! No no no no no — _PLEASE_!'

I press my hands to his wound, and he breathes hard, pressing his fingers over mine. He knows he's — no, don't think it —

'Heine, _no_. We never got to — I wanted to tell you — '

'V-Viktor?'

I heft him in my arms and run up the slope, to the lifeboats hanging above the water — _but I'll lose him, the way I lost Rose —_ 'I'll get you out of here — '

'Viktor, I… don't feel so good.'

My heart breaks. 'Heine, stay with me.'

 _And please don't ever go._

He shakes his head. 'No, I mean… I feel… sick.'

The boat lurches, grinding, and Heine presses a hand to his lips. He grimaces.

I stop. 'Are you… seasick?'

He flushes, and looks away. 'I… haven't been on a boat before.'

'Our ship is sinking, you've been shot, and seasickness is the worst of your problems?'

'I-It's not funny, Viktor!' The deck swings, and he stifles a whimper. 'Just help me. Please.'

 _Help me._

Heine. Who'd rather take on a platoon of soldiers by his lonesome with nothing but a six-by-four. Who shouldered the weight of this kingdom's future and taught my sons merely because I asked him to. Who's been let down so many times that he learned not to ask, not to trust — and he's asking me for help.

The bullet hole spills blood and starlight.

The only time he's asked me for help. And I don't know if I can give it to him.

Rossaine crashes to the deck beside us; flips the lever for a lifeboat, and pushes us in. It rocks wildly — bullets ping off the rail and chip the deck. Rossaine fires a round and fends them off while hacking at the restraints.

 _I always wanted to take a bullet for you._

We've come full-circle.

Even now, even dying, Heine grips my shoulder. 'Move, Viktor. Y-You'll get shot.'

I hold him close. Knowing full well that I could take a bullet in the back at any moment. 'No. Let me protect you, Heine.' The ropes are coming loose. I drop my head, and lower my voice. Footsteps pound over the deck.

'I-I had so much more I wanted to tell you. But we may not get out of this, Heine. So I'll tell you this.' I shield him and hold his slender frame to mine. 'You are worth it.'

The ropes snap.

'You are what makes this all worth it.'

A bullet sears my shoulder.

'So let me protect _you_ for a change.'

His eyes widen. With tears.

We plummet and hit the water with a crack that severs everything and sends us into waves that eddy and spin us back to shore, sending us scraping over the beach and into a seawall that stops us with a crunch.

I stand up and step from the boat onto stone with Heine in my arms, already running through my options in a dizzy panic —

And I step right into a waiting audience. An audience of stunned silence. Of my sons, my family, of other people that were all caught up in this.

Leonhard runs forward, chased by his brothers. 'Dad — '

He stops. With Heine's wound beneath his fingers. He blinks back tears. 'Dad?'

And I don't know what to say.

It sinks in. Eyes widen, and hands cover mouths. Disbelief.

A low whisper, and I hear someone say, 'What's the matter?'

Heine places his hand over Leonhard's, and his blood stains their fingers. He winces a little. His voice sounds soft and rough, in that accent, one that hasn't seen the light of day for a long time. 'Why the tears, Prince?'

'H-Heine?' Leonhard says. 'A-Are you…' _Dying?_

Heine looks down. He doesn't deny the shot wound, nor its dangerous proximity to his heart.

We hang on his response. The princes stand frozen. As do I.

'Well. We still have have your… end-of-term exams to get through… Highnesses. And besides.' He leans into me and gets his breath. His fingers slip through Leonhard's, holding the tip of the prince's finger. 'I remember promising a certain… prince… that I'd come back.'

After everything, the flame in those amber eyes just won't burn out. Won't give in. And won't give up, no matter what.

'And besides,' he says. 'I recall saying once that I would not fail you, did I not — '

And I have to beg the princes not to knock us over. A cheer streaks up and explodes like fireworks, scattering our messy ensemble with sparks of light and fire. Heine smiles — weak from the pain, but I can see his relief, his happiness, as my boys fuss over him. His relief that it's over. That we're safe.

And I feel it too. An overwhelming relief that _he's_ safe. That my _sons_ are safe, spattered with ash and filth and they've definitely had better hair days — but they're all right, _all_ of them. And I can see Rossaine nearly buckle under that same emotion — relief that the princes he tried so desperately to defend are fine.

Eins stands at a distance, with Count Rosenberg. The latter is rather heavily armed and looks dryly proud, whereas Eins looks reluctantly impressed. He catches my eye, and glances at Rossaine. I shake my head and get a nod in return.

Rossaine stands in my shadow, and I whisper to him — underneath Heine's pointed statement that yes, the exams are still going to be sat whether the princes want to or not. 'You can go. It's all right. Arra will throttle you if you keep her waiting any longer.'

Rossaine rests a hand on his knife. 'My lord… I can't.'

And I know. We both know, that it may not be possible for his "crimes" to go unpunished. Not if others hear of and follow his supposed example, not without others believing that we tolerate those who supposedly threaten our kingdom. 'I know. And I'm sorry. But you've kept her waiting long enough. At least talk to her.'

He blinks. 'Are you certain?'

I gently push him away, saying, 'You put your life on the line for us when it counted. It's all right. I understand.'

Arra loses patience and strides over. 'Thank you, Your Majesty.' She rolls her eyes. 'I apologise for my idiocy in being kidnapped and held over this one's head as a hostage.' And she grabs Rossaine by his tie and kisses him.

A bodyguard and a lover. What a painfully rewarding position to be in.

Arra finally lets Rossaine come back up for air, and she turns to me with a graceful dip of her head. 'Your Majesty. I tried to give your little tutor a heads up, several times, but my guards prevented my saying anything of use.'

'No. Not at all, you gave us something to go on.' Her eyes soften and she nods. She looks down and pats Heine on the head. 'I forbid you to die, Royal Tutor. I've taken a fancy to the idea of you tutoring the princess, and it's another three years until she's old enough to start school.' Heine chuckles, and she grins in return, before leading Rossaine away.

At a distance, I recognise Smerdyakov. The student — actually the bodyguard, as we recently discovered — of Bruno's mentor Dr. Dmitri. And much further up away, Herr Felix stands at the side of the street beside his horse, looking a little overwhelmed. I imagine Licht forced Felix to bring him here, regardless of what may have happened to the prince himself.

So many people. Eins and Count Rosenberg. Rossaine and Arra. Smerdyakov. Felix. My boys. So many people who care about Heine, people who didn't want him to die. People who cared about him.

'…you don't even know how to fire a cannon!' I turn back to the princes; Bruno is giving Licht — who is sitting on the seawall — a hefty telling off, with gloved hands gesturing and pushing up his glasses with every other word in his fury. 'Where do you get off on just showing up and…'

Licht winks and pokes his tongue out. 'Brunie, I come all this way and you feel like you've just got to lay into me, huh? Besides, it's not that hard. Right, Kai?

Kai nods. 'Right. Cannons are fun…'

Leonhard squares his shoulders and places his hands on his hips with a confident smirk. 'Heh, right. I had to get Heine onto the _ship.'_

'Gee.' Licht rolls his eyes. 'Bragging rights. I just passed out from medication withdrawal and showed up for the afterparty, pretty much. All hail Leonhard, the winner of the Help Heine competition.'

' _Licht_!' Leonhard protests.

Heine sighs, with a weary yet affectionate smile. 'Good grief. I didn't even have to bribe them with prizes for their efforts. Yet, thank you.' The princes halt their bickering. Everyone glances our way.

Heine blushes slightly. 'Thank you for your help. All of you. Everyone.'

I've never understood it. How someone who almost never smiles can prompt smiles in the hearts of everyone he meets.

The sun rises, tinting the sky with rose, and the crowds gradually disperse, and the gathered troops head their different ways. 'Let's head back, boys,' I say.

Heine avoids my gaze. 'Viktor… Something may have… happened to your office.'

'Couldn't care less. As long as one of the two hundred beds in the palace survived, I'm good. I just want to sleep.'

Bruno raises an eyebrow. 'That may be somewhat of a tall order, Father.'

'Oh? Looks like we may be sleeping rough for a while then.'

Licht grins and hooks his arm through mine. 'We should have a sleepover!'

Kai nods, with a smile.

'I guess,' Leonhard grumbles.

Things have snapped back into their normal alignment so fast that I can't help but laugh. I add an afterthought. 'That's all very well and good, but you better hope that Heine has mercy and lets you off your lessons, as it's already morning.'

Licht groans. 'You call this morning? Ok, let's go.' He slaps Kai on the shoulder. 'Come on, Kainie, rack up some extra points and carry Heine to the carriage.'

Heine looks a little alarmed as he changes hands, with both Kai and I taking care not to jar any of his wounds. 'You do realise you're not getting prizes for your efforts?'

'Well, you're alive, aren't you?' Licht smiles, and squeezes his hand. 'Isn't that a good prize?'

Heine's gaze softens. He hesitates. Then shrugs. 'How about a week's school holidays as a bonus?'

'Long live the Royal Tutor!' — and the four of them whisk Heine off the to the carriage so fast that I can't see them for dust.

'Be careful with him!' I call. I chuckle, and follow at a more leisurely pace. I pass Eins and Rosenberg, and pause for a moment. 'Thank you, you two. I had a feeling you were involved with a lot of this.'

Rosenberg casually holsters his pistol. 'Of course, Your Majesty. Any time.'

Eins hefts a sigh. 'Why do I bring you to these things, Ernst…'

'For my superior wit and perfect aim, of course.'

 _Interesting_ … Taking on bodyguard duties on the side seems to be trending at the moment. Perhaps it will become a thing — who knows?

Eins watches the princes carefully lifting Heine into the carriage, with something strange underlying his expression. 'He certainly has… talent. I expected to have to do everything for him when he begged us for help.' He sees my stunned expression, and after a pause, decides to explain. 'We were attacked at Schwarz Palace, merely hours after he showed up.'

'Oh, Eins,' I whisper. 'I'm… sorry.'

He shakes his head.

'No, I am! I didn't even think, I — '

'Because you were drugged up on opiates. See a doctor about it.'

'…Huh? I mean, wait, how did you — '

Eins sighs and places a hand on the back of his neck. 'I see your mental faculties are still suffering. That steward of yours was blackmailed. Jakob Frien. Whatever went wrong in the palace, you can blame him.'

'Oh. I see. But… I should have remembered you anyway, regardless of all that. I'm so sorry.' His eyes flicker. '…Can you tell me what happened at Schwarz? Please. I need to know.'

He grants my wish. 'Mercenaries, we think. We took Herr Wittgenstein and got him medical attention when you sent him to us, but he came to the same conclusion that we did almost immediately: that I was a target too. Only a couple of hours of sleep, and he was already insisting on joining the fight again.

'Then the mercenaries struck. He helped us flee the palace and evacuate everyone, and then… we heard that the princes had been kidnapped. The shock nearly killed him, yet not even a full minute passed before he was forcing himself to get up, ready to run across the kingdom to save them. He only asked for our help because we forced him to.'

I'm stunned. '…Heine…'

Eins looks at me. 'At the time, I thought _we_ were the ones doing him the favour. Yet he saved the entire kingdom.'

Rosenberg raises an eyebrow, and crosses his arms behind his head. 'And even that feels like an understatement. Dare I say it, I was almost impressed.'

And here I thought I owed Heine everything. Now it feels like I owe him everything ten times over, and I don't think I'll ever truly understand the depths of how much he's done for me.

'Thanks for telling me,' I say. 'And I'm sorry for passing him off to you like that.' I tap my head with a weak smile. 'I was being an idiot, regardless of what medication I was on, and that seems to have only made it worse.'

'Truly, Father, see a doctor,' Eins says in exasperation.

'I will, I promise.'

I briefly summarise what Rossaine told me, and fill them in on everything they missed, before summarising. 'We'll discuss the incident with all affected parties at a later date, but for now, we'll focus on security on our borders with the Venezian Kingdom.'

'Easy enough. A nuisance, but better than this senseless melodrama.' The ship finally sinks beneath the waves, to accentuate Eins's point. 'I think Venezia will be horrified, when they realise what their spies have been up to behind their backs. They'll probably do most of the clean up work for us.'

'Yes. They've always had a reputation for these cloak-and-dagger affairs, but this is a new low. Half of me wonders if the drama and randomness of it was merely to make our heads spin and distract us.'

'No doubt.'

We're both aware. The after-effects of this are going to play out far into the future. Another fracture in the stained glass window of Europe.

'This peace isn't going to last forever,' Eins says.

'I know. But I'm not going to let it break yet. Not while I'm still alive.'

'So when you're through, you'll hand down a prepackaged mess down to your children?'

'Don't be silly.' I rest a hand on Eins's shoulder. 'I want to do what I can now because I'm only _ever_ going to get to do it now. I'm building this kingdom's future for everyone that lives here and for you, my children. '

Eins doesn't look at me. But I mean it. We have our differences, but he's still my son. No matter who the throne goes to, no matter how things play out, I'm always going to love him. I hope he knows that.

He shrugs my hand off, but his fingers touch mine. Just for a moment. 'Be careful. At least until we've sealed the borders.'

'Rest assured, I'm not leaving the palace. We're going to take the time to get back on our feet then resume things as normal.'

Rosenberg's expression shifts. 'Yes… Lovely. We'll be doing some of that as well, won't we, my lord? Speaking of which, where do you want to stay tonight? Apparently the fires even spread to — '

'Don't start, Ernst.'

I suppress a laugh. 'I'll leave you two to it. And I'll try to keep the Council off your backs for a while. It's the least I can do.'

Eins's lips curve. A faint smile. 'Thank you.'

'DAD, HURRY UP!' Licht yells.

I run off with a wave and jump up the carriage steps, closing the door behind me with a heavy slam before collapsing into the remaining seat. Heine leans against me, I put my arm around him, and he sinks into me in the way that you would sink into your favourite armchair.

We set off, the princes talking amongst themselves.

I lean down, lowering my head to his. I whisper in Heine's ear. 'You're amazing, do you know that?'

'…High praise. Who were you talking to?'

'Eins.'

Heine winces a little, and his eyes take on a pained expression. '…I had to ask them for help, Viktor. I'm sorry. They may… try to use it against me later.'

'On the contrary, they're too busy being indebted to the man who just saved the kingdom. You don't need to worry about it. And if anything ever comes of it, I'll take care of it. Don't worry.'

'Thank you,' he whispers. …Viktor?'

'Yes?'

'I… I don't know what's going to happen.' He's still holding a hand to his chest, and he still has a gunshot wound. No amount of pretending or relief at the fact that we survived can change that.

'You're going to be fine,' I murmur. 'I have every confidence that you will.'

'But just in case. Just in case something happens.'

'Heine — '

He looks up at me, then down again. He fingers the edge of my jacket. 'On the ship. Before. I'm… glad we finally got to have a proper argument.'

I touch his cheek, and exhale, with a smile. 'As am I.'

He smiles too. And closes his eyes, holding a hand to his chest. He falls asleep in seconds.

'Heine?'

I touch a finger to his pulse. He stays asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. My heart beats a little faster. Yet he's breathing evenly, and his pulse is steady.

There's nothing else we can do. He's not going to wake up again for a long time now, and all we can do is take care of him and wait.

'Father?'

I look up to see that all of the princes are watching, their breath caught in their throats at the sight of Heine unconscious in my arms.

'He's fine. He's just asleep.' I look down, and can't help but smile. 'Can you really blame him?'

They smile too, shaking their heads.

'He'll need to rest for a long time so he can recover, boys. And we'll all need to help him. Can you do that?' I ask.

Bruno takes Heine's hand, lying on the seat, and carefully places it in Heine's lap. 'Isn't that the least we can do, after everything he's done for us?'

 _Indeed._

I look the princes. My boys. Dusty. Messy. Blood everywhere. All of us are a mess, but…

We're happy. Joking, laughing, already healing. A brief explanation of what Rossaine told me — a reassurance that everything is over, as well as the reassurance that Rossaine hadn't betrayed our family as we thought he had — does even more to close this door behind us. It's easy to move on from something when you can understand it. Even while asleep, Heine's lips relax into his version of a smile.

Blue sky. The fresh, heady scent of summer air, even though we're in the depths of winter. Rich sunlight and warmth.

And I fall asleep to the sound of my sons' voices.

 _End of Act 6: Midnight Coup D'état_

 _To be concluded in the Epilogue: Rose Dawn…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Somehow this story went from a collection of assorted bits and pieces about Heine and the princes getting into hot water to a sprawling 120K word story that escalated into a political conflict that involved three countries and sank an entire ocean liner, as I fondly like to summarise it. ...This fic definitely outgrew the 'little side-project' description somewhere along the way. Apologies for all any incoherent narrative messiness, as I did not outline this at all. No outline meant I had no idea what I was doing at the end, so I panicked at the idea of concluding it neatly. Thankfully it's been refined a lot since then to make it readable, but I did, however, get confirmation from several people that the ending did actually 'make sense' before I posted it, so that should do it until I fine-tune that side of things even more in the future.

And we're at the epilogue. Wow. How did I even write this much, anyway? Reviews, feedback, and criticism are most welcome, and the story concludes in the next three chapters...


	61. Rose Dawn I

**~ Heine ~**

I wake to daylight. A clock ticks steadily. Strong sunlight floods the room.

I lift my fingers. I've been bandaged, cared for, and cleaned up; smothered in fresh sheets and nightclothes so expensive that I feel out of place wearing them. I've been placed half-sitting up, with a pile of pillows at my back.

I realise that I've woken because someone else is in the room, and it's Helene. She places a fresh cup of tea on the bedside table, beside an old one. She moves a shiny new pair of glasses placed across the saucer of the old drink to the new one, and takes the previous cup of tea.

I clear my throat, wincing a little at how rough and dry my voice is. A whole week's worth of yelling has done it no wonders, it seems. 'Helene?'

She blinks, and turns to me. 'P-Professor…'

She drops to her knees beside me with a crash and snatches my hand, and she's _crying_. 'Professor! You're all right!' She rubs at her eyes with her other hand, and trying to talk through smiling and crying at once. 'You've been asleep for _days_ — everyone's been going absolutely mad!'

'Days?' _I've been asleep that long?_

'His Majesty's nearly been going out of his mind, and all the princes are taking it in turns to panic and then tell each other off for panicking!' She laughs through her tears. 'And it doesn't matter how many times the doctors have checked you over and said that you're all right, we've all been absolutely _stressing_! Maximilian and Ludwig can barely hold down their posts, they're so distraught!'

'E-Everyone…' I clear my throat, wincing at the sandpapery taste. 'C-Could I…'

'Oh, of course, I'm sorry!'

She carefully passes me the fresh cup of tea and I take it, carefully. My other arm is back in a sling again, cradled against my ribs. Bandages cover my chest, protecting the stitched wound beneath. I slip the new spectacles on. I take a sip of tea, and exhale. The steam mists up my glasses lenses. I almost feel human again.

'Thank you, Helene.' I look over at the other cup of tea, and I blink in confusion. 'Have you… been bringing me tea the whole time I've been asleep?'

She rests her arms on the bed, still laughing weakly. 'I didn't know what else to do with myself. And I thought you would like something to drink when you woke up. But come to think of it, you could have woken up in the middle of the night… oh mercy!' She springs to her feet in a total panic. 'They asked me to tell everyone if you woke up — oh mercy me!' She slams the doors open and sprints from the room, yelling, 'He's awake — !'

'What?!'

But I don't even have time to think who it is that she's talking to because she takes the corner so fast that she nearly trips. 'Heine, I mean — royal tutor, the royal tutor, I mean — _he's awake_!'

Her voice fades into the distance and I realise, on seeing the two of them lean around the doorframe, that it's Maximillian and Ludwig, of all people.

'Professor! You're still alive!'

'Herr Wittgen—' Ludwig breaks off and smacks Maximilian upside the head. 'Of course he's alive, you imbecile!'

'Maximilian? Ludwig? …Whatever are you… doing here?' I ask, completely confused.

Maximilian winks. 'We were personally assigned by His Majesty to guard you!'

'We've been taking shifts night and day,' Ludwig adds. 'You've been kept as safe as possible, if that gives you any comfort.'

'Thank you.' Yet I don't realise how much I truly mean it. 'Truly. It's a great comfort, thank you.'

'Weeeeel,' Maximilian says, leaning on his pike. 'It wasn't as effortless as this bossy-boots here makes it sound. He made me do a thousand pushups on one shift just so I wouldn't fall asleep!'

'That's because you're too easy-going!'

 _What on earth have these people been doing outside my door…?_

My lips twitch with a slight smile. 'Thank you for your labour, then.'

'You imbecile, Maximilian,' Ludwig grumbles; he pulls the younger guard back from the door with the words, 'Rest well, Herr Wittgenstein,' and the door slams shut.

I'm left staring at it for a good full minute, caught between confusion and laughter. Everyone was… worried about me? The tea warms my chest, but so does something else: a warm emotion that I don't know what to name.

Barely a few seconds later, the palace physician and another doctor show up and enter the room, wasting no time in checking me over. 'You doing all right?' the other doctor asks.

'Yes, I think so,' I say, examining the bandaged hand lying in my lap. 'Forgive me, but… I don't know your name…'

'Not surprising. I'm one of the specialists that His Majesty called in for you: a cardiologist. That gunshot wound was so near to you heart that I've been kept on hand to help monitor your condition.'

'Really? …Thank you.'

The palace physician closes his bag and gets up to leave, along with the other doctor. 'Take good care of yourself. You're on total bedrest for the immediate future. Regardless of your various injuries, you've pushed your body to its limits; you'll need to rest to even regain your strength, let alone heal your injuries.'

'I'll take care of myself. Thank you.'

They leave and close the doors again. Only a second later later, I hear footsteps sprinting down the corridor.

' _Please_ let me see him, I — '

'Y-Your Majesty — !'

' _Please, I —_ '

'The doctors just told us that he can't be agitated!' Ludwig protests. 'This is the dictionary definition of "agitating," Your Majesty!'

'D_it, fine — look, I've got to get something for him anyway so if I pull myself together by the time I come back, can you let me in?'

'I think so — ' But Viktor's already sprinting off again — 'Ah, _Your Majesty_!'

Ludwig opens the door again and tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace. 'You could probably hear that.'

'I probably couldn't miss it even with ear muffs on.' And I smile behind my hand.

Ludwig's eyes crease with a smile in return. 'We'll let him in to see you when he comes back.'

'If he behaves himself, that is!' Maximilian adds.

Ludwig slams the door shut, and the lecture on how to refer to members of royalty kicks off with a bang.

I glance at the clock, counting the seconds as they tick by, with laughable impatience. I just want to see him, so much that it aches. The longing fizzes in my stomach like shaken-up lemonade, and a smile flickers on my lips. All of it — our arguing, our roles, our positions — it all is just _irrelevant_.

I just want to see him, and he wants to see me too, and the simple, childish nature of it makes me want to laugh until I simply can't laugh any more.

I'm just so… happy. And it feels wonderful.

Footsteps approach the door again, more measured this time. A murmur of conversation.

The door clicks open and Viktor steps in; not in a particularly graceful fashion. Mainly due to the over-sized bouquet in his hands. He stops, and waves, with a hesitant movement of his fingers. '…Hi.'

The door closes behind him.

Yet I can see the blue electricity and impatience and happiness fizzing in his eyes.

And just like that, we're back together again.

I suppress a smile and I set my cup and saucer down. 'Do you need a hand?'

He shakes his head, and looks at the bouquet. 'I asked for extravagant, but…' He has to tilt the thing to catch my eye. 'I think they went a little overboard.'

Then he crosses the room and places it in my lap — and I realise it's for me. I'm still a little slow on the uptake, it seems. The blooms spill from their paper, flooding me to my shoulders, in a heady mix of vanilla and floral scent. I blush, merely from the surprise. 'I-I… This is too much, Viktor…'

He touches my hand and rests his there for a moment. 'Really? I don't think it's enough.'

The petals brush my fingers. Delicately soft. Much softer than metal and rope and the trigger of a gun. I breathe it in, with pure pleasure. 'Thank you, Viktor. And thank you, for all the things you've had done to take care of me. From the bottom of my heart.'

'It was truly the least I could do. That's how we all feel. We're all just so happy that you're all right. Everyone in the palace is.' He places the bouquet aside. The sun heats the colours, and strengthens the scent.

He touches the bandages, running his hand down the length of what would be my wound, from the bullet that I took for him. His eyes tighten with pain, and gratitude. And I recognise it in myself. I wonder if this was how he felt when he took a bullet for me. If he's now feeling what I felt all those years ago, back then. He lowers his head, and whispers two words, so silently that I can't hear. Yet I know what they are.

I rest a hand on his shoulder, and murmur, 'It was my pleasure.'

We stay like that for a little while.

He lifts his head and sits beside me, taking care not to jar my hand as he moves. 'By the way, I have something for you, by the way.' He makes a show of searching his pockets, teasing my curiosity, until he finally pulls out my pocket watch. The familiar weight presses into my hand. The shattered glass has been removed and replaced, yet the original chipped metal casing remains.

'Thank you,' I say, eyes wide with surprise. 'And… I'm sorry that I…' I cough. 'That I used it the way I did. I was out of options.'

Viktor chuckles. 'No, I'm glad it came in handy.' He reads my thoughts before I even think them. 'Rossaine was actually impressed with your ingenuity. Don't worry; he has plenty of scars already, he doesn't mind — ' He stops, and shakes his head. 'But please. You don't need to worry about any of that anymore. It's over and done. I'll take care of it. You've done far, far more than enough. Just rest.'

The words feel like balm on my wounds. 'Thank you, Viktor.'

I rub my thumb over the glass of the pocket watch. It circles my reflection: a slender frame, wide amber eyes, a snarl of reddish hair, and white skin. I look a lot younger than I feel. I press the watch to my chest, then slip it beneath the covers. It beats a steady tick against my leg, Viktor's heartbeat against mine.

It makes me smile.

'Heine? Can I talk to you for a minute? Please?'

'O-Of course. If you wish?'

He rests a hand on his leg. Trying to choose the words. 'Heine, I'm sorry. For what I put you through, and for all the pain you suffered. For being selfish.' He takes my hand. 'I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry that we fought, that I didn't give you a chance to speak. I'm sorry that I placed such a heavy burden on those little shoulders. Heine, you…'

He hesitates. Shy. Awkward. A side of him that I haven't seen in a long time. '…you're important to me. I didn't know how to explain it, and then it was almost too late.'

His hand cups my shoulder, and his words patter on my skin like a soft summer rain.

'I want you by my side, Heine. You're the dearest friend I have. I need you. It's not worth anything to put you in harm's way, not when I could lose you. It broke me like I never knew it would to see you get hurt. You're the one who helped me build this kingdom, Heine — there's no point if you're not there to share it with me. So I'm sorry.' His voice breaks. 'Forgive me.'

I clear my throat. I look down, and whisper the words. 'Y-You're going to make me cry, Viktor.'

His breath catches and it comes out as a soft noise, somewhere between laughter and pain. Tears streak my neck, not my own. 'Crying is _my_ niche. Find your own, my friend.'

I rest my head against his shoulder, and one hand against his chest. '…I did it for you, Viktor. Not just because you asked. Because it was for _you_. And remember… It was messy, and it was ugly, but that's how I grew up. It's part of who I am. I'm comfortable with it — it's not new to me. And it's not the end of the world when I need to wade through those waters again.'

I finger the pocket watch. 'But even if you hadn't asked… maybe I would have thrown myself into the fray anyway. It just would have taken a little longer.' A smile rests, deep inside. 'But thank you, though. I appreciate it.'

'And I appreciate _you_. More than I'll ever be able to tell you…'

Viktor sits back and takes my hand. He raises it to his lips with perfect care and formality, and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. '… _Mein schatz._ '

 _My treasure._

It stuns me. Kissing someone's hand is gesture bestowed on someone of higher status. It's a subject acquiescing to a ruler to whom one has fealty. Viktor's eyes glimmer with mischief; he knows all that full well.

I bite back my smile and shake my head over his theatrics. 'You're impossible, Viktor.'

His fingers caress the creases of my fingers, my callouses, before letting go. So gently that it doesn't feel like letting go at all.

Something pricks my fingers, and I open my hand. A glittering starflower of pearlescent metal and the finest velvet rests on my palm. A medal of service.

 _What you've done is medal-worthy._

It hurts so much, so bittersweet, that tears spatter the fabric. The only thing I can think to say, as silly as it may be, is, 'H-How long have I been asleep?'

'Two days. Plenty of time for me to have it made.'

Our gazes meet. We both know, know what this means.

'People have started to talk, Heine. People from throughout the kingdom who have seen glimpses what you've done. They're praising you. They admire you. But they want to know more. Where you came from; who you are. And you've already garnered suspicion for… previous matters.'

The velvet weighs rich and heavy in my hand.

'We have to either lay the matter bare, or quiet it entirely.' His gaze is heavy with regret. 'We haven't been given a choice.'

I have to divulge my identity — and risk either being hailed as hero or bring branded a criminal with the blackest past — or I can step back into the shadows and carry my secrets forever.

 _If you can save him, I'll do anything you want._

I close my eyes and smile. Continuing to guard my secrets in exchange for keeping my life? This life, with the people I love? The easiest burden I could ever be asked to bear. _Thank you._

I finger the medal and tilt the light over the facets, reflecting my smile. 'You're more the medal-wearing type, Viktor. Not me. I'm more comfortable in the shadows. Besides, I didn't do this for… fame, or anything else.' I look up at him. 'I did it for you.'

He embraces me, and I take the impact and lean into it, hugging him as tight as I can despite the pain and bruising of my injuries. My fingers get caught in his hair. The medal glimmers in my hand, and disappears in the warmth and safety that I can feel in his arms around me, and the angles of his shoulders and hands. I'm so happy that I want to cry. And I do. Quick breaths and tears of pain and happiness.

It's been a good minute and I still don't even want to let him go yet. It feels like nothing can tear us apart when we're so close, like nothing in the world could take me from the safety in his arms.

'…We both care too much, Viktor.'

It's the simple truth.

He's my everything, now and always. My friend, my confidante, my one in particular. Always there for me. Caring about me to the point of selfishness, to the point of fighting with me about my safety. Soulmates. Stopping short at the threshold of romance, but do we even need that kind of affection?

I hold him close. His warmth, his solidness, the quick beat of his pulse, and the scent of cologne and paper and metal. Breathing it in and letting all the memories come flooding back.

No, we don't. If anything, what we have is even better.

'You're my everything,' I whisper.

'And I'm nothing without you.'

Brokenness doesn't have to be painful. If anything, it's like light flooding through fragments of stained glass in a dozen colours.

'Never again, Heine.' He places a hand on my heart, making a promise. My breath catches. 'I will never ask you to do something like this again. You have my word. I'll protect _you_ for a change.'

I close my eyes. My heart feels too full, like a jewellery box too full to close. 'Thank you. Viktor.'

But I pause. Unable to help but think it. 'As you wish. But if something should ever happen to the princes and I'm in a position to do something…'

Viktor suddenly presses a hand to my shoulder and forces me to lie back down on the pillows. Startled, I look up at him. 'Heine, no. Please. I… I know I involved you in this — '

'Viktor — '

' — and I know you want to help — '

' _Viktor_ — '

'And I'm trying with all my power not to tell you what to do, but please — '

I finally get a hand to his mouth and I shut him up with a finger to his lips. ' _Viktor._ I understand, I _know —_ _enough._ Stop before you blow a valve, if you would?' I poke him back a couple of centimetres and sigh in exasperation. 'Let me finish. If something should ever happen to the princes and I'm in a position to do something… then and only then will I step in. That's how it was before, and that's how it should be.'

He purses his lips, too many emotions clashing in his eyes for him to speak.

I touch the edge of his sleeve. 'I know you want to protect me. And we don't need to argue about it anymore. I'll accept it.'

'You accept it?'

'I surrender.' A soft smile. 'Rather, you won me over.' Yet I can't pretend that that side of me doesn't still exist. 'But if the princes need me, then I need to _be there_ for them, Viktor.'

He takes my hand. 'I know. … And I know we blew it last time we tried to talk about this, but… I don't think you can continue as their bodyguard.'

I sigh wearily. 'You know full well that I can't. And I do too.' It finally feels real, now that I've said it.

'I've already hit my limits,' I say. 'And it seems that if I continue to put myself in danger we run the risk of you having a stroke.' He gives me a look, and I roll my eyes in return. 'And the princes need better protection. And I can't keep up my teaching work and guard them at the same time, at least not in the long run. But this affair was never going to be long-term, was it?'

'No, correct as always.' He half-smiles. 'But on the other hand, I never expected you to become involved to the extent which you did. It was a sight to see. …You're always so dedicated.'

'Mm. But yes — I know I can't do this anymore, regardless of whether you and I wish to or not.'

I close my eyes. 'I… give up being the princes' bodyguard. All I ask is that you let me come to their aid if they need it. As you asked me to so long ago.'

'Heine. You don't need to ask me anything. As neither will I ask you to do anything like that ever again. All I ask of you is that you let me protect _you_ for a change.'

It stuns me. I swallow. And lick my lips, suddenly feeling unsure if my voice will work. Then I clear my throat and look at him. 'As you wish.'

And I've finally set the gun down down.

And he reads my thoughts, and rests a hand on my shoulder, letting me lean against his. I didn't even have to ask. I savour the warmth, thawing out like a statue frosted with ice.

'Ah, you,' he murmurs. 'I remember I tried to hug you once all those years ago and you nearly clawed me. And look at you now.'

'Hmph. Just blame it on the painkillers.' Yet it's like sunshine on my skin, just being able to be with him and be safe in someone's arms, a feeling that I've never felt before.

Viktor's touch lingers on my shoulder. He sighs. 'We're talking too much, aren't we?' he says. 'We just have to keep on saying things.'

'Mm. You royals are always so long-winded…'

'Then I'll try and shut up and just say it in a sentence. Just don't go looking for trouble, Heine. Can you promise me that?'

'Easy enough. I promise.' My lips quirk in a smile. 'Besides, I've had more than my fill already.' I look at the medal again. It glimmers in my hand, in the warm shadows that Viktor casts over me. 'What am I even going to do with this? It's not as though I can pin it to my uniform.'

'You could put it in your drawer?'

'With that photograph of the two of us.'

'And your weapons.'

'And those strange contraptions for making myself taller that Prince Licht insists I have in my possession.'

It takes a while for us to stop laughing.

Viktor looks down, eyes flickering over my bandages, and strapped-up arm. So gentle, yet he feels like he needs to ask. 'Am I hurting you?'

'No, you're not.' I trace the medals and crimson strips of velvet with my eyes, blurred by how close I am. 'So… We'll merely discredit any involvement I had in this, and things will die down?'

'Yes.' He lets me go and brushes my hair out of my eyes. 'And… it is your choice, but I think this will be safer for you. I still don't know how people will react if they found out the truth about our past.'

About how we met. About our illicit friendship, between royalty and a commoner. The accidental shooting that wounded him, and the aftermath of which put me behind bars. The kingdom knows that I allegedly have a criminal record, if people cared to pay attention, but no one knows the truth about how I got it. No, some Pandora's boxes are best left closed.

Viktor looks out the window. 'Though, I wish I could tell the whole kingdom. About what you've done for them. What you've done for me.'

'I didn't do anything…'

'You changed me, Heine. You taught me. Helped me. Took care of my sons. Saved the kingdom.' His hair falls over his jaw, hides his smile. 'Don't tell me that you didn't do anything. No amount of thanks nor reward could _ever_ suffice.'

'…should we… no, stop… they'll hear us…'

'Oy, stop that! And he's not well enough to deal with all four of you at once!'

'But can't you _please_ …'

I only drop my hand when I realise who's on the other side of the door. I sigh, and smile.

I point, and Viktor gets up and yanks the door open, and with a yelp, the princes spill into the room in a tangle of arms and legs.

Ludwig gives the pile of princes an unimpressed look.

'Ow! For crying out loud!' Licht manages to get free and he collapses against the wall in a huff. 'We just didn't want to interrupt!'

Ludwig raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 'More accurately, we thought Your Majesty and you yourself, Herr Wittgenstein, would want the leisure of being able to converse before we let this rowdy lot loose in here? Besides,' he says to the princes, 'the doctors already said that he really shouldn't have visitors — '

'We're not visitors!' Leonhard protests. 'We're… something… else?'

'Leonie, why are you trying so hard?' Licht whispers. 'We already got into the room.'

'It was instinct!'

'Pfft.' I cover my mouth with my hand, and choke down a laugh. I raise my hand a little, and the bickering ceases like someone flipped a switch. I try to soften my expression and put them at ease. 'Boys, I'm not that ill. Please, Herr Steiner, you can let them in.'

'As you wish,' Ludwig says, and he and Maximilian close the doors behind them.

Leonhard grimaces and disentangles himself. 'Phew. Well, _I_ said we should just come in…'

Bruno tries to collect himself as well, coloured scarlet, and Kai sits cross-legged on the floor.

'Sorry for interrupting, Father,' Bruno says sheepishly. 'We all heard Helene yelling something about Heine being awake and we sprinted over before we could even think…'

'Don't worry, you're not interrupting,' Viktor says. He's amused, by the looks of it.

Leonhard looks over at me. And to my surprise, I realise his hands are trembling a little. 'S-So… you're all right?' he blurts out.

And I realise they're all worried to death. I've never seen them look so stressed — and I've seen them speak in front of an entire council.

'I'm quite all right.' I push my glasses up a touch, and say, 'Please, you don't need to be worried. I've been well taken care of, and I should be back to teaching in a couple of days — '

Viktor glares at me. 'Did the doctors not tell you that you're going to be on total bedrest for the immediate future, Heine?'

'Oh. I forgot. But — '

'Bedrest?!' Licht panics. 'A-Are you all right — '

'I'm truly fine!'

Viktor sits beside me, and taps my leg through the covers. 'Heine. I'm afraid you probably aren't aware, but you actually sustained grievous injuries?'

I purse my lips. 'I feel fine…'

'You dislocated your entire leg, d_it!'

'Viktor, not in front of the boys,' I chide. Then I blink. 'Wait, what — I did?'

'O-Oh my goodness. Y-You're not in pain, are you, Master?' Bruno stammers.

'No. On the contrary, I actually can't feel a thing. I must be more medicated than I realised.' _No wonder I didn't realise the actual extent of my injuries._

And suddenly, Leonhard hugs me, in a tangle of blond hair and arms around my waist and his head in my lap. I'm almost too surprised to react. 'Prince… Leonhard?'

He blushes, and sits up. He fingers my hand. 'T-Thanks, Heine. Y-You did so much for all of us, and… it must have been so… hard.' Tears spill over his cheeks, and wipes them away with gloved hands. Every day, even when you were sick or tired or hurt, you still did everything, all of it. T-Thank you.'

'Yeah, Teach.' Licht pushes off the wall and walks over, his eyes and quivering lips betraying his emotions. 'I don't even know how you're meant to thank someone for doing everything you did for us.' He sits beside me and rests his head against my shoulder, hiding his tears. 'You're incredible.'

'I concur.' Bruno swallows, and pushes his glasses up. 'I…' He covers his mouth with a hand and blinks back tears. 'I… I'm sorry, my faculties are failing me…' He turns and faces the wall, saying to himself, 'Come on, get it together, man.'

'You did so much, Teacher,' Kai says. A brief line of water glitters on his cheek and disappears into his collar. 'You're a hero. _Our_ hero.'

I don't know what to say. If I hadn't spilled so many of my emotions into Viktor's open arms before, I think I would not be as able to refrain from shedding tears as well. 'Oh, princes…' I murmur. 'Please don't cry.'

'I'm not crying!' Leonhard snaps, automatically.

'Uh, yes, Leo. You are. With the works, actually.'

'Like you can talk!'

'At least I cry prettily, unlike you…'

'Licht, can you not — '

' _Geh_. Crying does not suit you at _all_ , Brunie.'

'I'm not! I'm merely… I… Right.'

'Kai? Yep, he's caught it too.'

'I'm just happy that Teacher's all right…'

'That's fine but — hey, Dad, where do you get off on not joining in on this?! You're always over-emotional every other day of the _d_ed week_!'

Viktor doesn't take the bait, and merely laughs. 'I'm afraid you caught me too late.'

'So, um…' The princes all turn to me, having pulled themselves together somewhat. I lick my lips. 'Um… are you… enjoying your holidays?' I ask.

An awkward second of silence, while we try to remember what our "normal" is.

Leonhard's face lights up. 'Yeah! A-Ah, I mean, we want you to come back for lessons, o-of course…'

'My goodness. Saying you want to study of your own free will. Is that actually you, Prince?'

Leonhard crosses his arms in a huff. 'I said I wanted you to come _back_ , not that I wanted to _study!_ '

 _And there's our 'normal.'_

Licht sits next to him; he splays his gloved fingers over his eyes and laughs. 'Well, yeah. It is nice to have a break though, and we all need it, you especially.'

Bruno comes over and sits in a chair at my side. 'A-Are you sure you're all right?'

'Yes, quite.' I touch a hand to the bandages over my chest. 'Thank you.'

Bruno clenches a fist. 'If you need me to get you any books from the library during your convalescence, I can fetch them personally if you wish, Master!'

'A-Ah… all right…'

Kai sits on the floor beside me and pats my hand. 'Get well soon, Teacher.'

All this care and love is far more than I'm used to. My face heats with a faint blush. I feel the need to get the attention of myself, as much as it actually makes me happy. '…What about all of you?' I ask. 'Are all of you all right?'

'Yeah, yeah.' Licht crosses his arms behind his head. 'Just fine and dandy. It seems my offers of time as an apology for my wipeout at the gala were a hit, so I've even picked up a week's worth of dates.' He winks. 'Booked out and no time for school.'

Bruno groans. 'Licht. For goodness' sake.' He glances back over at me. 'Yes, I think we're all fine. Spared the worst of it, as such.' He hesitates, before quickly touching my wrist and folding his hands in his lap. 'And you took such good care of us. It was easy to have peace of mind, so to speak.'

'Hey, so… thanks. Heine. Again.' Leonhard avoids my gaze and fingers his hair. 'You kind of… saved the day. Saved us, I mean.'

'And thereby saved the day,' Licht notes.

' _Licht_!'

I chuckle, and take Leonhard's hand. 'I'm happy to have been of service, Highnesses. Besides, I said that I would not fail you, did I not?'

'I don't think that failing is even in your vocabulary, Heine,' Viktor says from the doorway.

I push my glasses up, and say, 'Well… I know the technical definition of the word. But's not as though I use it on a frequent basis.'

Licht points into the middle-distance with a wry expression. 'It's time for a lesson! Open your books to page nineteen!'

My eyes widen. 'That's not what I sound like, is it?' A laugh bubbles in my chest, and I laugh, until my shoulders are shaking and I'm wondering if I'm in danger of pulling my stitches. It spreads to everyone and ends up with the princes and I all collapsed on the bed, still laughing so hard that it hurts.

Viktor watches us from the doorway. And I realise that I'm in his place. I stop like someone pulled the needle off a record with a screech. I'm taking his role, I'm somewhere I'm not supposed to be —

Then he whispers. 'Thank you.' Then he says something else. In the Gherman dialect that I grew up speaking. A rough brogue, one I almost forgot how to speak. One I didn't know he spoke.

'You're the only one I would want to take my place, Heine.' He pauses, a smile quirking his lips as he tries to phrase the syntax. 'You know, I didn't just call you here to teach them. I wanted you to come and be family to them. To be there for them when I can't. I trust you. And I want you to treat them as though they're your own, because I want to share this with you.'

The princes glance up. Not familiar with our speech, not aware of what we're saying.

Leonhard's fingers find mine, and slip in against my knuckles. Clasping my hand in his.

My heart throbs. I'm almost unable to accept it. To believe that it's true.

 _…But I will be glad as long as you are happy and healthy. I'm your father, after all._ The long ago words, and the emotions they stirred up, they come back to my memory.

It wasn't the medal. Nor the watch. Beautiful, but just trinkets.

This is the most precious gift he could have ever given me. One I could never have dreamed of: to have his sons in my care; to raise them like my own, to raise them at his side.

To have the family I never had, that I would never be able to have.

Licht. Leonhard. Bruno. Kai. Gold and yellow, brown and white.

It tips my world on its axis. And tears streak my cheeks with silver. ' _Danke._ Viktor.'

He leans against the doorframe. He nods. And a half-smile touches his lips.

The princes sit around me, at my sides, so close. And I let myself be close. I touch a hand to Leonhard's shoulders, and lean against him. This feels like a dream — and I never want to wake up.

Leonhard looks down at me and smirks, a faint blush on his cheeks and that blue fire back in his eyes. 'So? Time for a lesson?'

I shrug, and raise an eyebrow. 'It's always a good time for a lesson, is it not?'

'Except math lessons.'

'I'll contest that point.'

'Ugh!' But he smiles, and slips an arm around my shoulders.

My heart aches with happiness. With the new knowledge of what I have.

It's always time for a lesson.

You can always learn something new.

I take the pocket watch from beneath the covers, and the Glanzreich coat of arms gleams on the back. It fits perfectly in my hands, the metal worn and cracked and roughened with age. The princes look, with curiosity.

History. Craftsmanship. And a score of other subjects.

I smile softly. 'Well? Shall we begin?'

 _To be continued…_


	62. Rose Dawn II

**~ Rose ~**

The Royal Tutor would probably be irritated if he knew I was spying on him. He does like his secrecy.

My lips quirk. It's still amuses how he looks like a child. Like a child, until he opens his mouth and unleashes a low, attractive voice and razor-sharp wit. Yes, we would have gotten along tremendously well.

Viktor stands next to me. We would be touching if I were truly here.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a ghost. Good grief, I'm nothing of the sort. But even though I've long left this world and passed on, I can still see what's happening in the palace that I left behind. A blessing in the truest. And I don't appear to have aged, despite having left a few years ago. I examine my slender arms and wrists with a smile and draw the same conclusion I always do — _still as dazzling as ever, Rose._

I rest an invisible hand on Viktor's arm. He rubs his sleeve, and straightens his jacket. I laugh. I wonder if he'll ever guess that it was me.

I turn back to the Royal Tutor. Yes, we would have got on well. Part of me almost wishes I could have met him, yet I prefer it to have turned out this way. He takes a pocket watch from the depths of the quilt, and starts explaining something to the princes. I recognise it; Viktor carried it when we met. Then he happened to lose it in some kind of accident, he told me. So this is where it's ended up.

I slip from the room; crack my knuckles, and step into the palace, into the bright sunshine and whirlwind of activity with a grin on my face.

I pass Helene, careful not to distract her from the stacked tray that she carries. I dart into Adele's room and catch sight of my daughter. My little angel. My _creative_ little angel — she seems to be braiding ribbons into the dog's fur. I drop a kiss on her forehead and slip out again.

I step out onto a balcony and take in the staggering view of the kingdom. Don't misunderstand. If I had the choice, every time, I would fight to stay. I fought as hard as I could. I lost with grace in the eyes of the kingdom. I sulked in the privacy of my chambers with Viktor, but even then it was hard to keep that up. He just loved me so much. I couldn't have asked for more; from anyone, or for anything.

Just more time. But we all want more time, don't we?

In this form, I can see what occurs, and I can walk from place to place. I can slip through the cracks of time. And watch over my children; laugh with them, cry with them; tear my hair out in sympathy when they run into dead ends, and rowdily cheer their successes. I can sit with Viktor as he falls asleep.

I walked through this whole nail-biting, melodramatic mess with them in its entirety, wishing for nothing more than to snatch a gun out of someone's hand and join the fight, rather than having to watch from the sidelines.

Yes, I would always choose to fight. To stay. But I can still be with them, and that's more than I could ever ask for.

I think Heine and I have a lot in common. We find it hard to believe that other people can love us so much. That they'll be willing to help us. I've sat in his room, and pieced together the whispers of his past. He has a past; I had problems. Those things can make it hard to believe in others. Yet others love us anyway.

I slip from the palace, through shadow and sunlight, into Wienner. I dance through the streets that I love, amongst the people whom Viktor and I fought for, to the strains of piano and guitar. I round a lamppost, and run up a driveway, laughing as loud as I wish.

Two days have not worked miracles. The palace is still very much a burned-out shell. I stifle my laughter and run through the closed doors — and nearly bump into Ernst. He walks past me with his usual elegant grace and I chase him up the stairs. He breezes into Eins's office, proceeding to set down a tray of coffee and a silver pipe.

Eins turns from the singed bookcase that he's sorting through. Shirtsleeves rolled up, waistcoat off; a stack of blackened books in his arms. He looks offended, and he points for Ernst to put the tray somewhere else. Ernst sasses him back. It makes me laugh. My eldest son still hasn't learned to lighten up. Yet I think he's changing, a little.

Ernst shrugs off his holsters; takes the books off the prince, and slips an arm around Eins's waist, asking what's next on the list. Eins grimaces and nearly shoves him away on instinct, but Ernst expertly dodges and tugs Eins closer, forcing a smile out of him. They look like a young couple planning home improvements, even though they're anything but. I laugh so hard that I have to lean against the wall, nearly falling through it by mistake.

I head out the door, but take one last glance back. Ernst is the person that could soften Eins's hard edges, I think. If they don't destroy each other or the kingdom in the process. I exhale, and leave them to it.

I walk back through Wienner, and wander around the kingdom. Time ripples and flows around me as I walk. Snatches of the future show through the cracks. Heine and Leonhard walk down a side street, older, closer. Close friends. Leonhard's hair is cut short, and I want to run over and protest. I always loved his hair. It looked cute. I chide myself, thinking, _He's got to grow up, you know._

I pass a cafe, and stop on seeing Licht inside. Not as he is now but as a young adult, managing the cafe alongside Herr Felix. I see they've _finally_ allowed him to make the coffee. I pump a fist. _Good for you._ Licht steps out to write on the blackboards, with a confident grin on his face. Some things don't change, no matter how much time passes.

I'm in the vicinity of the university, and I see Bruno with Dr. Dmitri. An older, more self-assured version of himself, with a briefcase in hand — returning from another trip to Orosz, I think. He chats with Dr. Dmitri and Smerdyakov as he passes me by, and fluent Orosz dialect rolls off his tongue.

I have to hunt around a bit for Kai; I finally find him on a military training camp, with a friend of his. Leaner, more muscled. At home in the military, with his sharp eyes and strong build. Yet still my gentle Kai, showing his friend a letter from his fiancee; commenting on the fabric of the military uniforms.

As I walk, I see other people. Rossaine. My heart aches for him — my dear friend — at what he got caught up in. Yet he's atoning, bit by bit, for what he was forced to do. On the threshold of a hotel room, Rossaine waves goodbye to Arra and she waves back, a piece of toast in her mouth. Time is blurring a little here. I don't know how long it is until everyone accepts Rossaine after what happened. Yet knowing Viktor, he would have found a way to try and protect Rossaine despite all the political implications of what happened.

Guylian leaves his own apartment and heads to the university, writing notes as he walks. Time flickers. Estiella leaves her home — her parents' pharmacy — and I see a glimpse of the young woman she'll become. Whisked into a fairytale by a handsome stranger. I tip my head up to the sunlight. Good for you. Good for all of you.

I pass the cathedral. A big flash of years go by. To a sea of people. Millions.

To one of my sons taking the throne.

But I pull myself back to the present and I don't look. Because what's the fun in reading ahead?

I pass a _kaserkrainer_ stall, and pull up short to eye the display longingly. I wish I could eat one; they smell so delicious. This is a little while in the future, maybe a month. I see two familiar figures near the fountain.

'…looked vile, if I remember correctly.'

'Oh come on, I did eat it in the end, didn't I?'

'After I took great pains to give you a demonstration.'

'Come off it already.'

They're dressed in winter coats, with paper bags of books in their arms. I see Heine finally got Leonhard into reading. I do a victory lap around the fountain. Even I couldn't convince him in my lifetime, the stubborn child. They sit on the edge of the fountain, and I try to sit with some degree of grace and poise beside them.

Leonhard slips a book out of his bag, then looks over at Heine. 'Hey. Dad told us to look at the fountain when we saw him earlier. What do you think he meant?'

Heine raises an eyebrow, and frost spills from his scarf. 'To look at the fountain, perhaps?'

'Heineee! You're so cold…'

'I am cold, actually.' The tip of Heine's nose is red. 'It's meant to be spring, but the weather didn't seem to get the message.'

I rub my arms. Yes, I'm glad I can't feel the weather. Doesn't mean I miss it I don't miss it, though. Leonhard reaches out an arm pulls Heine closer; wraps his coat around him. Heine's protests — and his laughter — melts in a cloud of frost.

Leonhard looks up, at the fountain at our backs. I follow his gaze.

We both stand up.

'Prince, can you put me down?'

I glance over and burst out laughing. Leonhard must have forgotten to put Heine down, because the prince is essentially holding the little tutor under one arm.

'Sorry,' Leonhard grumbles. But our eyes go back the fountain.

It's literally made of precious jewels. The finest diamonds and emeralds. Tastefully arranged over a figure of marble, yet dazzling in the sunlight.

It's my mirror image.

Heine and Rossaine remembered me. Right before the twenty years were up.

I step up, and imbue the statue for a moment. It feels beautiful. A dress that Viktor picked out for me.

The water flows.

'It… looks like her.' Leonhard's eyes meet my emerald ones, without him knowing it. 'It almost looks real.'

I slip from my finery, and land delicately beside him. He glances at me. Only seeing the Ringstrasse. I cup his face, and drop a soft kiss on his cheek. I leave.

'…I'm glad.' His words stop me. 'I remember her, but… I'm glad we're taking about her again. Even a little.'

Heine looks at the statue. Maybe wondering who that girl really was. His lips curve in a soft smile. Maybe he already knows. As I pieced together his past, I have no doubt that he could piece together mine. 'Perhaps she's still watching us.'

'I hope so.' Leonhard grins. 'She better be watching when I'm crowned king!'

 _Oh darling._ I rest my hands on his shoulders, my face against his neck. _I'll always be watching. And I'll be so proud. No matter what you do._

'Cart before the horse, Prince. Let's at least master the fundamentals in your studies.'

'Really? Come on…'

I rest a hand on Heine's shoulder. 'Take care of him, Royal Tutor…'

He stills. Maybe he heard me. Maybe not. Yet he doesn't need to — he's already everything I would want for my boys. Viktor's go-to choice and mine as well, whole-heartedly.

I blow them a kiss.

And return to my palace. To my king. To my family.

I touch down in the present and step onto a balcony. Glanzreich shines and glitters. White and gold. Millions of people.

I slip through the window. My boys have left the room, leaving Heine and Viktor alone.

'So what are you going to do with your payment?'

Heine blinks. 'Pardon?'

'Your wages for your bodyguard work?'

'Oh. I'm getting paid? I think I forgot.'

'Did you even read the fine print?'

'Not really.'

Viktor shakes his head. 'Heine, you're my dear friend — but you need to gain some courtly awareness. For your own sake if nothing else.'

'Yes, someone lectured me on that front recently. But I trust you. I didn't need to read the fine print.'

'In that case…' Viktor leans and whispers something in Heine's ear.

Heine's eyes widen. I whistle. That's a lot of zeroes. 'But what am I meant to... do with that?' Heine asks, bewildered.

'Spend it on books?'

Heine gives Viktor an unimpressed look. 'Don't tease me, Viktor…'

Viktor winks. 'Sorry. But all jesting aside, I can imagine where that's going to go.'

To the Maria Vetsera church. The church that Heine and Viktor built together to shelter and teach the orphans of Wienner. To Heine's students, the orphans he taught before coming to the palace.

Heine and Viktor's hands close over the pocket watch. 'Some things don't change,' Heine says.

'True. Should we hit up the bookstore when you're feeling better?'

'Please, no. It'll turn into an expedition, with Bruno leading the charge.'

They both laugh — the unrestrained laughter of . With the smiles and knowing glances and the easy familiarity of kindred spirits. 'My word, you two,' I murmur. 'I'm almost jealous.'

I step backwards, not wanting to miss a moment of it. Backwards through the doors, and I step onto the windowsill.

The sun burns hot and bright. The wind plays with my hair

We'll see each other again. But they have so much more to do before then.

'Live hard, my darlings.'

I jump.

The kingdom in gold and white and blue sky and everything I love.

And I think that there's never a dull moment in this kingdom.

 _To be continued…_


	63. Rose Dawn III

**~ Heine ~**

It's just the two of us now, alone in my room with a soft breeze blowing through the curtains.

'Would you care for a drink?'

'I shouldn't really be drinking with these wounds. And this isn't your office; we don't have your stash of _Niederglanzreich_ white wine on hand.'

'Mm. True.'

He pauses for a moment.

'Say, Heine.'

'Mm?'

'I wanted your advice on something.'

I push my glasses up and look at him over the top of the frames. 'It took you long enough. But if it were advice that you were after, don't you have a council for that, Viktor?'

'Yes, but the audience chamber is in shambles, because a certain _someone_ blew it up.'

'This is why we have national insurance…'

'Yes, yes. Anyway.' He finally stops playing with me and he shifts to speak in my ear, in the fading daylight. 'I'll cut to the chase. The kingdom's next centennial anniversary is coming up.'

And I feel those seven words lock into place, knowing instinctively that they've spelled our fate, whatever that may be.

But right now, we're merely suggesting impossibilities, and we can afford to take those considerations with a grain of salt. 'Thanks for reminding me, _Viktor_. I'd managed to put it out of my _mind_?'

He lightly pats me on the head, and I flick his hand away. I still have one good arm and he can't get away with that much. 'I know, sorry,' he says. 'I know the feeling. And thanks for the congratulations and well-wishing for the occasion…'

'Fine. Congratulations to the king and long may he reign. Your point?'

'My point is that I wish we didn't have to think about this, but I'm afraid that we don't have a choice. It's not going to be low-key. Orosz, Fonseine, Romano, and other countries are all going to be involved. Needless to say, I have to rethink our security. More specifically, our security for the princes.'

I cross my arms and stare at the stitching of the quilt, my mind already working overtime. 'What do you wish to do?'

'I think you already know.'

'Mm. You're thinking that regardless of this event, given that the princes were just caught up in a political conspiracy, they're going to need personal security for foreseeable future until we're certain the threat has passed. You're thinking they need new bodyguards.'

He says nothing, and I realise that he doesn't know what to say.

I sigh and shake him by the shoulder. 'Good grief. I'm not made of glass. I know princes need proper protection — and especially more so now that we've found out that a single person can't effectively manage the situation long-term.'

He lightly pokes my cheek. 'No, not made of glass at all. More like diamond or marble. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings. Again,' he adds in a whisper.

Then he straightens, and that emotional vulnerability we shared this morning locks away, behind a royal facade, behind the persona of a king. Yet his eyes are still the same when he looks at me, and his smile isn't a mocked-up fake. 'I confess that I turned to you because you were the only person I could trust. Screening new members of the Royal Guard is a lengthy process, and hiring personal bodyguards is even more so. You were the only person I could turn to at such short notice. But now we have choices. So what do you think?'

I raise an eyebrow. 'I suppose I'm not in the running, then? And I was starting to get into the swing of things, too…'

'You'll be my consultant on the matter and _that is all_ , Heine.'

My lips quirk in a half-smile. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

He sighs, with a weary smile. 'You just can't stay down, can you?'

'Apparently it's one of my selling points. It's a shame that I already have a job and such over-protective friends — I could have gone into business in the personal protection service.'

It takes Viktor a full good minute to respond. '…You can already joke about it? My word. Case in point.'

He rests a hand on my shoulder and takes a sheaf of papers from his pocket, unfolding them and spreading them flat. 'But enough of that. I've made plans to start screening candidates over the next week, and we'll tell the boys at the nearest opportunity.'

I look at him. 'While I don't think that the princes would want me to return to active service either… you do realise that they're going to kick up a tremendous fuss and boot each and every candidate from the palace and possibly bring the entire matter before the council?'

'I'm _well_ aware. Which is why I'm asking around asking my connections for some… alternate solutions. Rossaine has countless acquaintances in the Fonseinian military, and between his and my connections, we should be able to find a solution before the centennial celebrations in six months. We can make a mess of things now, but we have to have this organised by then.'

'I see… So what now?'

'Now…' Viktor looks out the window, and I hear the click of boots on cobblestones and the familiar cadence of the princes' voices. 'Hmm, let's see: now I have to clean up all the political mess we made this week and I have to try and keep _you_ on bed rest, and… oh, yes — I have to try and convince the princes to accept the fact that they have to take on new personal guards and heaven knows _that's_ going to go over well.'

'Want to try and conquer the Western Continent while you're at it?'

He takes my hand in his, gloved fingers locking together with mine as easily as the mechanisms of an old pocket watch, then gestures in a sweeping brushstroke that encompasses me, his family, this palace, and our kingdom. 'Why would I want to? Everything I already love is right here.'

I once told Viktor that if he could reform our kingdom, I'd do anything to live in a dreamland like that.

And I know. That if I had to do this all over again, that I would do it with pride and honour and go in with guns blazing, with even more ferocity than before.

Because in the face of such happiness, for a friend that I love with all my heart, my burdens feel like the lightest that I could ever be asked to bear.

'And everything I love is right here too.'

And right here, in this palace, with this king and these princes, is exactly where I want to be.

Because I belong here.

 _The Royal Bodyguard has now concluded..._

 _The End_

* * *

 **~ Author's Note ~**

After 125K words; 63 chapters; 5 drafts; 9 months of writing; 61 days of uploading — and as of March 2019, 10,000 views (whaaa?!) — we have reached the end of The Royal Bodyguard!

Confetti!

Well… wow — people actually enjoyed this crazy little (massive) caffeine-powered 'bodyguard' pet project! Thank you all for reading! Special thanks are below, but first, an announcement…

* * *

 *** ANNOUNCEMENT ***

...

'The Royal Garde du Corps Féminin'

2020

...

Because the The Royal Bodyguard needed a sequel, right? Wrong? Either way — BOOM! — it's happening! But as it will likely be 2020-ish by the time I write, edit, and upload it, I came up with some spinoff projects for the interim…

* * *

 **~ Schedule ~**

 **"The Next Steps"** A prequel story for 'The Royal Garde du Corps Féminin.' Changes are coming to the palace, but these princes don't take change lying down and _everyone_ knows it… (Set after the events of 'The Royal Bodyguard') (January 2019)

 **'Alone Together'** follows Heine and Viktor as they escape for a night and return to their old haunts in an attempt to renew their friendship. (Set after the events of 'The Royal Bodyguard' and 'The Next Steps') (One-Shot) (June 2019, TBC)

 **'Mein Schatz'** tells the story behind Rosenberg's becoming Prince Eins' bodyguard. (Set during the events of 'The Royal Bodyguard') (One-Shot) (September 2019, TBC)

 **'Red Banner'** explores how Smerdyakov and Dmytri met, as well as their pasts in Orosz. (Set before the events of 'The Royal Bodyguard') (One-Shot) (December 2019, TBC)

And lastly, the conclusion to the Bodyguard Duology: **'The Royal Garde du Corps Féminin'** And let's just say: 'All the king's horses, and all the king's men, won't be enough to save these princes again…' (Coming Soon) (Release Date TBA)

After I've completed the TRB series, I will likely go through it all and edit it, and fine-tune TRB further as I... did not actually outline this story. Shock! And the manga will no doubt give me new information to work with, such as Heine's bombshell of a backstory reveal in Chapter 74 (screams), and Eins' new fiancée in Chapter 76 (screams louder), not to mention that they may actually get around to revealing what's up with the Mystery!Queen at some point, but let's not let canon get in the way of a good story! So anyway, if you ever see a '(Revised)' tag on any TRB stories in the future, you'll know that it may pay to check 'em out again!

...

And this is the point in which I insert a shameless self-plug to follow my profile for notifications when these stories come out… * inserts plug *

~ Follow Electrikitty for more Royal Bodyguard and Royal Tutor stories! ~

(Whew, that was embarrassing. Okay, that's my yearly publicity stunt done…)

Next up on the calendar is **'The Next Steps,'** which will also contain more info about **'The Royal Garde du Corps Féminin.'** I will also be posting progress updates on the sequel on my profile page as well (outlining, writing, editing, official release date, schedule, and so on).

* * *

 **~ Poll ~**

And lastly, I (of course) had to do the works and put up a 'Who Would You Want to Be Your Bodyguard?' poll…

Check it out if you're interested! It will go live on January 1st and run during 2019. I'll put the results up in **'The Royal Garde du Corps Féminin'** (I'll give the crowd favourite a little extra screen time or something special in the sequel). Have fun voting!

* * *

 **~ Special Thanks ~**

Assorted thanks and gratitudes below (as well as life debts involving copious payment of Zachertorte to certain individuals...)

Thanks to BloodthirstyMajesty, CamoflagedForever, Cheesybeans, DarkSeekeer, Duckreb, Elliariz, FanAnt, Kaykay221335, Kitty Snowdrop, LilFireFox09, Linitiff, Llyria, LovingDreamer, MinnniePizzza, MioDraconis, Miss Anime5260, mochimogalina, planters, Seisuke Seirin, Sendigo, shalom.03, snapelouver, SPAWNOFDARKNESS, starofwater, TheFloatingOreo, Very-Dark-Grey-Kitsune, Xx-ashes2ashes543-xX, and YasumireAirtDark for favouriting. Thank youuu :3

Thanks to DarkSeekeer, duckreb, Elliariz, FanAnt, GreenHoneyTea, Kaykay221335, Kitty Snowdrop, Linitiff, LovingDreamer, MioDraconis, Miss Anime5260, Oceanmist19, planters, Sali-space, Samuraiko, Seisuke Seirin, Sendigo, shalom.03, snapelouver, SPAWNOFDARKNESS, Very-Dark-Grey-Kitsune, and Yona1.0 for literally following Heine and the princes through their extremely lengthy adventure!

Thanks to MinnniePizzza, mochimogalina, planters, Samuraiko, Seisuke Seirin, shalom.03, and Very-Dark-Grey-Kitsune for taking the time to review, I appreciate it! PMs of undying gratitude have been sent :) And a big shoutout to guest reviewers (whom I unfortunately can only reply to here as FFN only lets you message account holders). Literally, you guys are all amazing and I need to thank one particular guest reviewer here because they left over FIFTY reviews and they get a THANK YOU in blockcaps and my undying gratitude until the end of _time._

And thanks to everyone who contributed in one way or another to the story itself: FanAnt (medical accuracy, historical information, and weapons consultant), shalom.03 (reader of first-drafts), Samuraiko (writer of thought-provoking reviews and generally amazing all around), and Very-Dark-Grey-Kitsune (proof-reader and cheer squad).

And just 'thank you' to everyone in general. I had a blast writing this, and I hope you had fun reading it. As always, reviews, feedback, criticism, and questions are most welcome. I'd love to hear what you thought, and again, just... thank you so much.

Virtual hugs and kisses to you all; onto the next fic, and _tchüss_ , I'm out of here! -Electrikitty


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